Not Another Chair Story
by HyperCaz
Summary: AU season 2. Now that everyone knows Dr Beckett's little secret, things should be easier. Right, that'll happen... Sequel to So I Married A Chair. Beckett/OC, Lorne/Cadman
1. Or Something Like It

AN: Wow, hello. Welcome to the sequel to _So I Married A Chair_. Sit back, break out the pina coladas and attempt to get through this monster of a first chapter. I will be making reference to _So I Dated A Chair _as well. And this really is not just another chair story, I promise. ;)

It's set season 2, and 2-3 days after "Intruder".

* * *

Story 1 - ...Or Something Like It

* * *

When asked what the major differences between the operations at Stargate Command and those of the Atlantis expedition were, one would of course point out the international cooperation of the latter and its position in the middle of another galaxy. One might also admit that while the grey walls of the SGC offered no opinion in the running of the program within it, the walls of Atlantis had much to say about everything, from impending Wraith attacks and...whether or not decent coffee was served in the mess hall.

For Dr Carson Beckett, the differences were very pronounced. To begin with, his wife was only able to appear to him on Atlantis. She was the entity of the city, its very essence, and their marriage had resulted in him becoming the king of Atlantis. The humans inhabiting the city either respected him for it, or gave him a wide respectable berth.

He still wasn't sure which one he preferred.

When it came to Stargate Command, people either laughed outright or shot each other skirting looks that either meant they thought he was insane, or that they were planning on sending a gift-wrapped Naquadah bomb to his new home address.

Again, choosing a preference was problematic – especially if he mentioned that when he'd met Nena, it had been through a chair.

But Carson Beckett, CMO and father, didn't care about all that. He was happy, he was in love, he had a daughter and then add in the bunch of very loyal, very strange friends – so all in all, he had nothing to complain about really.

He told himself this over and over, when the new arrivals who'd come with him on the _Daedalus _asked loudly if it was true, that he really was married to a chair.

"I don't really see how tha's any of yer business," he said for the umpteenth time.

His newest patient, awaiting her physical, smiled up at him. She was a nice blonde with an even nicer smile. Carson thought she might be a Lieutenant. Instead of the usual dirty questions that invariable followed, she merely said, "You're lucky. I don't even think a chair would go out with me."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Carson said, feeling relieved. "Ye seem like a lovely lass to me. Maybe ye will find some luck of yer own here?"

Laura Cadman sighed and stuck out her arm for a blood sample.

* * *

The Chief Medical Officer was not the only one encountering trouble with the newer denizens of Atlantis. Already someone had stepped in and swiftly undersold Radek Zelenka in the roaring black market trade of chocolate, coffee, banana-flavoured condoms and other unmentionable items. This caused a lot of angst for Zelenka and it meant that his leisure time was just as stressful as working with Rodney McKay for several hours.

A fight had broken out over seating arrangements in the mess hall, an intellectual war had started between the already established physicists and their new colleagues and someone had thrown a linguist's personal items over a railing into the ocean. The funny thing was, no one was sure if the linguist had been there to begin with, or was a more recent addition. The current theory was that there was no linguist and there certainly was no spoon.

But none of this was important compared to the brewing enmity between two different branches of the US military.

Lt Colonel John Sheppard knew exactly when the conflict started – the moment that Major Lorne had quite innocuously asked Sergeant Bates how to get to the mess hall. The two men sized each other up, judging how well either of them filled out their BDUs, finding out who was shorter and then there was the cracking of teeth as Bates recognised exactly what kind of man this was.

John watched this with some trepidation. Not only had he returned from Earth with a lot of new guys, but also with the news that the position of "head of security" was no longer seen as relevant to the expedition. This news John had kept to himself for far longer than he ought to have, mostly because of Sergeant Bates.

He reflected that this might have been easier if the king of Atlantis had left Bates buried in the sewers. In fact, John could think of far worse places to hide, especially once the news broke.

"Bates, how about some directions for the Major?" Sheppard prompted uneasily.

Sergeant Bates nodded briskly. "Yes, sir. Down this corridor, take a left, swing another left and then it'll be the second door on your right. Take your time, Major. Don't expect to learn it all on your first day."

"Third day, actually," Lorne corrected. "I've been too busy casing out the city to handle any more than ration bars. Heard there might actually be a half-decent cook here."

Flicking his eyes between Major and Sergeant, John realised he probably looked like he was watching a hard and fast game of tennis, so shot his line of sight right down the middle. He cleared his throat. "Try to have some fun. All work and no play...well, you know how that turned out."

John laughed. He was the only one.

He power-walked out of sight.

* * *

Approximately twenty minutes after he'd left the infirmary, John Sheppard reappeared. Given that the officially instated military head of Atlantis usually had more important duties to attend to, largely concerning a misplaced cache of ammunition and/or alcohol, Carson Beckett thought he had a good reason to feel nervous.

"What can do I for ye, Colonel?" the CMO asked cautiously when his friend approached.

"Oh, you know. Just checking up on the king of Atlantis, making sure you're not getting any lip from the marines and that you've got enough of those little swab things."

Carson stared at him. "John, yer not fooling me. Wha' has got yer so on edge?"

"It's Bates," Sheppard said quietly.

"He's really not as bad as he used to be. He makes a fair babysitter, ye know, something I notice neither ye nor Rodney have signed up for."

The Colonel's forehead creased and then he shook his head. "What? No! You know I'm too busy for that, Carson. And do you really want Rodney inflicting long and complicated formulae on your daughter?"

"Then what is the problem? I don't have much time for this myself."

"Bates..." John hesitated. "He's no longer head of security."

Carson had been busily rummaging through a box of triangular-shaped bandages. He immediately withdrew his hands and turned around, corners of his eyes crinkling with concern. "Then who is?"

"No one. But that's not the only problem."

"Yer just a real charmer today, aren't ye?"

"He just met one of the new guys and...it didn't look good," Sheppard finished.

Dr Beckett crossed his arms, envisioning a horde of testosterone-charged bulls descending upon the infirmary with more injuries than IQ points. He asked tentatively, "Didn't look good in wha' way?"

"Well they didn't have a spitting contest or anything, but there was some definite tension."

Carson smiled. "Wha' sort of tension, do ye suppose?"

"Carson, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Sheppard said, disgruntled. "I just think we should keep an eye out."

"And why are ye telling me this? Shouldn't this be something for Dr Weir to sort out?"

"But you're the king of Atlantis," John pointed out.

Dr Beckett took one step forward. He noted with some satisfaction that Colonel Sheppard uncrossed his arms and stood up straighter, swallowing at what was hopefully the impressive sight of a harassed and very cross Scotsman.

Carson let him have it.

"I'm also the Chief Medical Officer with not enough space to store my new supplies – a problem I would have very glad to have in the past year thank ye – and I am a father with a wee daughter who thinks it is simply grand to wake me up for the graveyard shift. And, as far as the IOA are concerned, I am no more than an irritation with no authority outside this room."

"Ouch, they really said that?"

"Not in so many words," Carson said darkly.

"When was the last time you saw Nena?" John inquired, leaning forward.

"This morning, I'll have ye know. She doesn't need nearly as much sleep as I do, so she's probably seen me a lot more than I've seen her. But it's hard to have a chat while yer daughter is makin' a fuss."

"If you two ever need some personal time, just say the word and I'll help out with Meredith."

"Are ye offering to babysit?" Carson asked, amused.

Sheppard grinned slowly. "Well, no, but I'm sure I could find someone for you."

"Thank ye, Colonel, but others have been more than generous with – "

"Hey, you know I'd do it if I had the time," John interrupted. "But this Bates-Lorne thing..."

"Trust me, I understand completely. Do ye remember when I sent Dr Biro to work in the botany labs?"

"Oh, when you exiled her to the Dark Hole of Calcutta?" John sniggered.

"I wouldn't call it that, John. But yes. Well at first there was a lot of name-calling and other silliness between the medical and science departments, but now it's silent as the grave."

Probably not the best simile to draw upon at this moment. Sheppard sucked in his bottom lip, frowning. "I'll keep that in mind. And Doc?"

"Aye?"

"Say hi to Nena for me. In case I don't see either of you before...well, before things get crazier than usual out there."

John sauntered out the door, though at a snappier pace than usual.

Carson and Nena Beckett watched him leave. It took a few moments for Carson to realise that his wife was standing beside him, even though the virtual coding announcing her arrival had streamed through the back of his head. It didn't take so long for him to wrap his arms about her and kiss her.

"Miss me?" Nena asked.

"I think ye know the answer to that," Carson murmured against her cheek. "Where's our Meredith?"

She smiled playfully at him. "Which one?"

"Don't act daft with me, love. I meant the midnight alarm clock."

Nena kissed his left ear, comfortably digging her chin into his shoulder. He patiently let her do so – until his shoulder started to twinge and a machine nearby started to make pinging sounds. Neither were very ignorable for long. Carson slowly moved away to turn off the machine. When he looked back, his wife was leaning against some cupboards.

"Meredith is being babysat by Teyla," Nena explained. "But not for very long. I promised her I'd let her go to a fight with one of the new marines."

"So it's jus' ye and me for a not very long time?" Carson mused.

"Suggestions?"

He told her.

"Carson Beckett, you are a very naughty boy."

"For the next ten minutes, maybe."

"Ten? Teyla doesn't expect me for at least fifteen minutes."

"Teyla doesn't have to reorganise the infirmary's inventory now, does she?"

Slightly more than fifteen minutes later, Carson shimmered out of thin air back in his office, straightening his shirt.

In that time, Sergeant Bates had decided to declare war.

...or something like it.

* * *

"Firstly, I want to know how this is my problem. Secondly, what would this achieve? Thirdly, I don't know what you're talking about – I have never been involved in any form of inter-departmental espionage. If Dr Beckett has said anything..."

"Who said anything about espionage?" Sergeant Bates cut over Radek Zelenka.

The scientist slipped his glasses off his nose and began gnawing on the rim. Grey areas were something that many in his field were used to – but if said grey area was being proposed by the still very paranoid head of security, it tipped over into the realm of Big Trouble. And the last time Zelenka had had anything to do with Bates, it had involved both of them performing spectacular belly flops into the bowels of Atlantis. Radek had not yet forgiven several people for that incident.

Bates crossed his arms, a movement which tightened his uniform and allowed him to rest a hand over the gun he was carrying. He tried again. "I need to carry out security checks on all the new personnel, because you never know who's got their slippery little hands into Atlantis."

"You have soldiers for that, no?" Radek asked suspiciously.

"A whole new batch, sure. But I don't trust them. What I need is an unofficial check up on Major Evan Lorne. No one else."

Zelenka popped his glasses back on and blinked rapidly. He fixed his eyes on Sergeant Bates for a moment, patting his hair into place. Then, after some consideration that involved mentally calculating his stock of chocolate, Zelenka said, "Please, no more lying. This will cost you. And there better not be any ventilation shafts this time."

"I'm not in the habit of making promises I can't keep."

Radek hoped that meant payment and not what he deeply suspected.

* * *

Glowing lines and numbers of data wafted in and out of the virtual corridors of the city, making itself known to those who could see and make sense of them. As this was limited to a sole one in this particular matter, it didn't even raise the hairs on the back of any necks. It did cause some anxiety for Chuck the technician when he couldn't figure out if there really was a glitch with his epic game of Minesweeper that he'd managed to hack onto the console screen.

In Doctor Weir's office, Nena abruptly stopped conversing with the city's acknowledged leader and peered up at the ceiling.

"Something wrong?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

Nena shifted the weight of her daughter in her arms, looking back down. She said after a pause, "Someone is interfering with one of my systems. It's nothing major, but I'd placed a warning message on that particular system after Carson used it to dump some people into the sewage system. I didn't tell him but it's handy to keep a leash on some of his activities."

Elizabeth smiled briefly. "The ventilation system. Do you want me to send someone to check it out?"

"No. I need to have a few words with my husband."

The lights overhead darkened and Nena's expression became slightly scary.

"I can page him here," Weir suggested, averting her eyes. "I need to talk supplies and personnel with him anyway. Even though I had plenty of time sitting around on the _Daedalus_, I don't seem to have got much of the number-crunching done."

"Not to mention having to attend human union ceremonies?" Nena's lips lifted a little.

"That too. But I wasn't about to pass up Atlantis' first official wedding. I'll call Carson."

The entity of Atlantis shook her head. "I'm going to have to say very bad words. I'd rather you not hear me."

"Believe me, I've probably wanted to say a lot worse," Elizabeth said. "Especially to the IOA. Explaining the last twelve months to their satisfaction left me biting my tongue."

Nena looked puzzled. "The IOA?"

"International Oversight Advisory. I assumed Carson had mentioned it. They had more than a few questions for him about your relationship."

Every light in Atlantis went dark. A lot of people started to rub impromptu goosebumps rising on their arms.

"Excuse me," Nena said, snarly static underscoring her words. "I really need to talk to Carson now."

She shimmered out of view.

Elizabeth Weir rested her chin against a fist and was very glad she wasn't her Chief Medical Officer right about now.

* * *

_CARSON BECKETT._

Uh oh. That didn't sound good. Carson looked sideways at the Lantean coffee machine settled into the wall of his office. It spat a very hot jet of water in his direction. He ducked under his desk. Poking his head up, he saw steam rising from the machine and rivers of boiling coffee snaking down the wall.

He closed his eyes. _What is it, love? Ye haven't tried any of this nonsense on me since we were dating. _

_Think really hard, Carson._

..._oh crap_.

_Yes, crap._

Well, there was no point running away as he so often had before they were married. Never mind that she had always known where he was, but he now he was just as much a part of the computer systems as she was and could therefore be abducted into virtu-Atlantis at any time she chose.

Carson allowed his corporeal form to evaporate into streams of data, sliding from reality into their home-within-home. He sensed that Meredith had been put to bed for her afternoon nap in a room nearby and wished he were similarly unconscious.

Nena stood not two metres in front of him, auburn hair somehow glowing more red and her eyes narrowed to two thin green lines.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" she demanded.

Carson shrugged helplessly. "No, love, I didnae think that. I jus' wanted to keep yer happy and not involve ye in any of this."

"Any part of Atlantis is involved with me, it's impossible to keep me out of it!"

"I'm sorry," Beckett said quietly. "I know I should have told ye. It's jus' that I...I was ashamed with myself, because I felt embarrassed trying to explain all this to a group of strangers. The IOA asked me sech questions..."

Nena held up a hand. "Hold that thought. Right now I would like to discuss you hacking the ventilation system."

Bewilderment crossed Carson's mind. He searched around for anything and came up blank. After broadening his search from his memories to the city's database, he found an alarm of sorts – something he wouldn't have picked up without her directly pointing it out.

"Well then, lass, it's not me," he defended.

It can be very tricky for the male of a species to convince the female of his genuine sincerity and honesty. This would definitely be one of those times.

* * *

The perpetrator of the crime was crawling through a ventilation duct that ran parallel to the corridor leading to the newly assigned quarters belonging to one Major Evan Lorne. Zelenka muttered in Czech for about twenty metres, switched to his command of Russian swear words for ten metres and then chose two or three very foul sentences in English before repeating the cycle.

"Not in the habit of making promises I can't keep, he says," he mocked under his breath. "Security clearance is not enough for me, I need a slimy little spy to do all my dirty work. Security check, hah! Just because he has his manliness threatened he has to send me to...where am I?"

Radek consulted the portable computer he had been pushing around in front of him. It had taken some fancy work to bypass the lock on the ventilation system – a lock that he was sure hadn't existed last year and was extremely unusual, because who in their sane mind would crawl into one of these ducts?

Especially since it had meant climbing in through a female Lieutenant's bathroom. If she returned from her duties before he made it out...Big Trouble.

Zelenka flashed through the schematics. He nodded once, then twice, and set off down the left passage. It narrowed somewhat, forcing him to squirm the last several metres.

He tapped his headset. "I'm in." Then he added sarcastically, "Should I take notes?"

"Only if you think it would make your report any more accurate," Bates replied from somewhere safe and comfortable.

Radek blew loud and hard into the mouthpiece, imagining with pleasure what sort of feedback his tormentor was getting. He peered through the dotted air vent, close enough that his glasses chinked softly against the metal, which gave a little. Startled, he drew back but kept his eyes focused on Lorne's quarters.

Evan Lorne was already there, finishing up a set of stretches and exercises. He rolled his shoulders loosely and shed his shirt. Zelenka decided that Bates really should feel threatened by that.

Lorne walked out of sight. When he returned, he was carrying...an easel?

Radek blinked.

Out came paint in several shades of greys, blues, greens and a funny little pink colour that wouldn't look too bad on a T-shirt. Lorne was suddenly holding a brush that had materialised so quickly he might have had it stashed in his pants. Zelenka really hoped not. A very bad joke had started to shout in his brain and wouldn't shut up.

"What's he doing?" hissed Bates in his ear.

Zelenka removed his glasses, bit on them for reassurance and put them back on. He mumbled, "Painting. He's just...painting."

Indistinct swishes turned into sure and steady lines, curving and rising up the canvas as surely as...Atlantis. Lorne was painting the view outside his window!

"He's...actually quite good," Zelenka said more to himself.

"Anything else that's a little more relevant?" Bates demanded.

An waspish answer had started to rise up Zelenka's throat, but it shrivelled and fell back down to his stomach the moment he felt a hand on his shoulder. Twisting awkwardly he looked over at his new companion.

He gulped. "Carson, I can explain."

"If I had the grace to let ye explain away, lad, then maybe I would. But since I jus' got a long lecture that wasn't supposed ta be for me, I'm sorry to say I don't have much grace right now."

Carson Beckett's face was mostly dark in the cramped and dimly lit confines of the ventilation duct, though pinpricks of light from the grate revealed a set of dimples that looked somewhat murderous instead of amusing, as they should have been.

The panels beneath Zelenka gave way.

"Jezis, Carson!" he bellowed, but from the floor.

Or more accurately, from a bed that was on the floor. And it definitely wasn't his bed.

Lorne had spun around, holding a paint brush in one hand and a pistol in his other. Again, it was a mystery to a slightly befuddled Zelenka as to where the gun had come from. He rolled off the bed and managed, "Uh, yes, hello. I am Dr Zelenka. I was just...inspecting the ventilation system for...bugs."

"I think you found one," Lorne said dryly, walking over to snatch the earpiece away and turning it off in the process.

"Ano, fancy that." Zelenka went cross-eyed as his glasses slipped down his nose. "Ah, this is embarrassing for us both. It was not my idea to be in the ventilation system and was not my idea to fall through."

"Actually tha' last one was my stroke of brilliance," a Scottish bur announced.

Radek and Evan both looked over at the corner. The CMO was wearing his lab coat and had both hands burrowed in the pockets. Leaning against the wall, he looked at ease, although he was frowning.

"I'm pretty sure you weren't there a second ago," Lorne said.

Carson nodded. "Yer right. I was going to leave Radek to this wee problem, but it is not his fault as I discovered after replaying some audio records."

"You must be Dr Beckett," the Major deduced. "Is it really true that you – "

"Married a chair? Aye, the rumours are all true. Now can we move on?"

"No, I was going to say, is it really true you control all of Atlantis' systems?" Lorne rephrased.

Carson reflected that he really oughtn't to expect everyone to ask the obvious. He was finding this more and more as the days wore on. Somewhat pleased, he replied, "Yes. Not to worry, though, I won't go peeking where I shouldn't – unless it is to put a stop to this kind of mischief."

Lorne clicked the safety on his gun and tucked it into the back hem of his pants. "Glad to hear it. I guess the real question now is who sent Dr Zelenka here?"

Zelenka muttered something that sounded like 'client confidentiality'.

"I think I know, Major," Carson volunteered. "Colonel Sheppard approached in the infirmary with a concern about Sergeant Bates and yourself."

"All I did was ask him how to get to the mess hall," Lorne said, frowning as he swished the paint brush in a small jar of water. Streaks of blue and grey morphed into one those dank filthy colours that tend to very quickly fill paint water.

Beckett and Zelenka looked at each other, exchanging the all-knowing civilian glance which was often affected in front of military personnel. Carson sighed. "What a fine mess. Are ye going to retaliate?"

Evan squeezed the paintbrush bristles under his fingers, mucky water dribbling down his wrist. "I'll get back to you on that one, Doctor."

* * *

Sergeant Bates was intent on making the most of the afternoon, although he was severely unimpressed with the skill of his spy, who had stopped transmitting anything over the radio. Probably turned it off accidentally, knowing the types you found in the science departments. Well, no service, no payment. And he'd possibly let the right authorities know about Dr Zelenka's side job.

He started into his quarters, heading exactly for where his basketball was. Bouncing it off the wall, he typed out initial personnel reports between hitting the ball. He drew a long breath, pausing over Lorne's name.

Deep breaths are usually good for taking in country air or even air by the seaside – although if you took the breath for just too long you might find yourself catching a whiff of a cow pie or rotting seaweed.

Sergeant Bates caught a whiff of sewage.

He leaned back in his chair and eyed the ventilation grate. He leaned further back when the smell did not dissipate. He then proceeded to fall flat on his back when the basketball returned to smack him like an uppercut to the chin. Leaping to his feet, Bates approached the grate, sniffing rapidly.

Definitely coming from there.

Clawing at the grate, he was momentarily relieved when it gave under his fingers, but then flattened back out. Several re-attempts and several re-results turned up the same awful stench. Bates then decided to calmly retreat.

...or something like it.

* * *

John Sheppard prided himself on having a Spidey-sense when it came to the men under his command, but on most occasions he would ignore it because it wasn't exactly accurate. That wasn't to say that his brilliant hunches were wrong, it just meant that sometimes he didn't trust the signal he was receiving.

He stepped into the mess hall.

Everything seemed fine. Lots of people hanging around, eating things...and not sitting down.

Not sitting down.

Then he noticed the distinct lack of any chairs. And there was a note on the buffet table.

_The United States Army has appropriated all chairs for the vital task of dinner. If you are looking for a chair and don't know where it is, give up. You'll never find it._

John looked around at the people gathered in the mess hall. Some scientists, a linguist and a lot of guys and girls from the Air Force. Completely no army personnel.

"Bates," he muttered.

* * *

"Problems, Colonel?" Caldwell wanted to know.

John bit just inside his lip, fighting the urge to say something that would probably bust him right back down to Major again. He had no idea why he'd sought out the _Daedalus' _commanding officer for a matter like this, but he hoped he might get something out of the other man's Spider-sense. So he thought he'd get right to it.

"Yeah, there's a problem with the personnel here on Atlantis. The Air Force guys and the Army guys aren't exactly getting along."

"Is this something that was happening before you left?" Caldwell asked. "Because if it's been going on this long, then I really don't think you earned Dr Weir's confidence."

"No, no it's nothing like that. It all started when you brought the new batch over."

"And this concerns me how?"

John chose his words carefully. "You've got...a bit more experience with this sort of thing. Any suggestions?...hunches?"

That last one was kind of desperate. John wasn't sure he trusted his own hunches right now.

"Try some aggressive negotiations," Colonel Caldwell responded blandly.

It wasn't until John was out of the room that he turned back to the closed door and demanded, "Isn't that from _Star Wars_?!"

Shaking his head, he went in search of the king of Atlantis.

* * *

Within two hours, Sergeant Bates entered a transporter. The doors shut, but nothing happened. He tapped the screen. It beeped rudely back at him. The doors opened again, admitting Major Lorne.

Both men stared at the doors, refusing to glance sideways.

Lorne finally turned around and selected his desired location.

Nothing happened.

"I think it's stuck," Bates said.

"No kidding," said Lorne.

Silence.

"What is your deal with me anyway?" Lorne asked.

Bates shrugged. "I don't know, you seem kind of up yourself."

"You got that from one question about how to get to the mess hall?"

"Yeah I kinda did."

"...that's stupid."

"No more stupid that sewer trick you tired. Who helped you? Zelenka? Beckett?"

"Yeah I admit it was stupid. What about the thing you did with the chairs?"

Both men said at the same time – "Definitely stupid."

At this point, Dr Beckett materialised between them. He asked with a sigh, "Are ye done yet? I was hoping to meet someone here."

Bates grinned. "Hot date?"

Lorne chuckled.

"Ye've been talking too much with Colonel Sheppard," Carson muttered, silently sending an ALL CLEAR message to John's laptop.

Somewhere nearby, John let out a sigh of relief. He thought about Colonel Caldwell.

The Force was strong with this one.

* * *

The next night found Teyla, John, Carson and Nena sitting in the mess hall – on chairs, thank God – trying to figure if what they were eating constituted proper mashed potato or something slimy that John's team had encountered on the ground on some planet.

"It certainly has none of the qualities I've come to expect in Earth food," Teyla acknowledged.

John held up the mashed potato in front of him and licked it uncertainly. "I think you might be right there, Teyla."

A tray landed heavily on the edge of the table. Rodney McKay seated himself between John and Teyla, leaving only one spare chair. "Good. You're all here."

"Yep, time for another session of the Society for the Protection of the Knowledge of Doing Sordid Things to Chairs," John said.

Rodney cleared his throat. "Please, are we still stuck in that loop? You won't believe how many idiots I've had to show the light switches to in the past few days."

By general consensus, no one thought to mention the person missing from the table. The empty chair remained empty.

"I can imagine," Sheppard commented flatly to his team mate. "Never mind that I had to quell a disagreement between two different factions of my men in that time."

Rodney looked up from his food. "Does this taste weird to you? This definitely tastes weird. I need some salt."

John passed him the pepper shaker, keeping his poker face carefully cultured.

Teyla took the shaker in her hand and gave John a severe look. "Yes, we were just discussing the food. As for the problems that John is speaking of, I noticed very little. I suspect very few of the non-military people here did."

"Really?" John looked put out. "But it was a problem. You can't deny that."

"Aye," Carson muttered, looking at his wife.

Nena rolled her eyes. Then she selected a pout from her arsenal. "I said I was sorry, Carsie-buns."

His face started to glow pink, but then he leaned over to kiss her.

"Ah, I thought something was missing," Rodney announced. "Where's my god daughter? You didn't leave her with Sergeant Bates, did you? There are plenty more qualified nursemaids who don't happen to have guns lying around the place where any grubby little hand – "

Carson snorted. "Don't ye worry. I left Meredith in the very capable hands of Sergeant Bates _and _Major Lorne."

John choked on his food and Teyla slapped him forcefully on the back. A glob of mashed potato went sailing past Carson's ear before landing somewhere unknown with a faint plop.

"Oh John, did ye tell Bates about losing his position?" Beckett asked.

After spluttering for a moment, the Colonel straightened. "No. I put in a recommendation for Bates to stay as the head of security. I also told them they might consider appointing Lorne as his 2IC."

"What did I tell ye? You'll hear of no more silliness between yer men."

"It's the unheard stuff I'm worried about," John groused.

Teyla laid a hand on his arm. "John, among my people, such invisible conflicts will solve themselves. If you hear of them, then _only_ is it your concern."

"How long does it take for one of you to pass the salt?" Rodney asked everyone.

Teyla passed him the pepper shaker.

* * *

AN2: I am so sorry that turned out so long!! I had no idea it would keep multiplyling like that. Just a bit if silliness inspired by the fact that I saved Bates in the fic set before this. Next chapter is set around "Runner" so that should be...interesting. ;)


	2. Cracks in the Plexiglass

Story 2 - Cracks in the Plexiglass

_aka "The Cast Member at the End of this Episode"_

* * *

A keening cry broke across the infirmary. Heads dived under pillows, nurses suddenly chose to have their breaks and a string of Gaelic curse words skittered out of Dr Beckett's office. Standing on the threshold of the CMO's domain was Teyla Emmagan, holding her fighting staves in one hand and a disgruntled Lieutenant Colonel in the other.

"Maybe we should come back later," John suggested.

Teyla raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you not just bemoan that if you did not take some pills, your headache would last an eternity?"

"I might have...said something that _sounded _like that."

"And were you not the one who planted his face on the floor hard enough that for several minutes you were convinced I had multiple heads?"

"Too bad I can't blame Absinthe," he commented. "Fine, Teyla, you got me. But sounds like Carson has his hands full. And everyone else seems to have gone into hiding."

Teyla tugged him along by his black shirt until he shrugged off the indignity and chose to follow her freely. Even so, John wasn't stupid enough to get too near the door when his team mate knocked gently.

He couldn't stop her seizing his arm and pulling him in, though. Not that he couldn't have resisted in many ways – of course not – but it would be better than to suffer her particular brand of wrath. Stick fighting was fun if painful, so he didn't want it to turn into a paddy whack tournament with him as the target.

"Is this a bad time?" Teyla asked.

Carson Beckett glared back at them, but then his face relaxed when he recognised his visitors. Cradled carefully in his arms was his daughter, fussy but not so loud as she had been a few moments previously. The sight might have been normal except that Carson was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, barefoot and wearing his Atlantean crown.

"For ye, my dear, never." Carson smiled. "Though if I were to see Rodney's face this moment, I might have a few choice words to say. What seems to be the problem?"

John pointed to his head and winced for effect. Sighing, the king of Atlantis slipped off his desk and handed Meredith to Teyla. Carson tipped the Lt. Colonel's head in his hands, muttered and pressed firmly. It was with a bit too much effort and a lopsided grin that John managed not to yelp. He'd been shot, stabbed and rolled around in vehicles that crashed – for some reason he couldn't remember anything that pained him more than a faceplant.

He wrote it off as the sting of embarrassment and hoped no one else noticed.

"I'd say a minor concussion," Dr Beckett deduced. "Ye can be on yer way but I'd caution ye to take it easy for a bit."

In a calm and proper universe, John Sheppard would have used the afternoon to find a good spot for a few hits of golf, dribbled in a bit of paperwork and then sought out Sergeant Bates for a heated argument about the true American pastime.

For a moment, John envisioned the rest of his day.

Then his radio crackled.

He tapped the headset, listened a moment. His hand fell from his ear and he did his best to hide his sigh. "Lorne found a dead Wraith off-world."

Dammit, he'd brought back his golf irons just for a day like this and then something like that just had to happen.

* * *

"You promised."

"I know, love, I'm very sorry but Elizabeth needs an autopsy – "

Nena gestured around virtu-Atlantis, indicating some problematic streams of data that were doing their best to be bright and entirely unhelpful. Some of them lit up the space so that her usually auburn hair looked off-green, throwing khaki shadows over an already dark expression.

"Carson, I was not programmed for these duties for no reason," she snapped.

"Oh, I never said – "

"Listen! I can't look after Meredith while I'm working! You have your job, I have mine."

Gathering up a line of coding, Carson lassoed it around her form and brought her into his arms. He kissed her which had the intended result of silencing her tirade, and then said tiredly, "Nena, ye can be just a wee bit scary sometimes. And I love ye too much to treat ye that way. I'm sorry but this is important. I'm sure there is someone willing to look after Meredith."

"Yes," Nena mumbled. "You know I'm sorry, don't you?"

Carson blew out a breath of relief. She really could be crazy sometimes – though he was fairly sure she would never again strand him in a pair of shorts while freezing Atlantis.

Or maybe she'd just forgo the shorts.

Not that that would be too bad.

* * *

Watching everyone else file out of Dr Weir's office, Carson patted down his lab coat to buy some time. Although the light settings remained standard throughout the city, the room's brightness flared before his eyes, searing the backs of his eyelids when he blinked. He waited, and Elizabeth crossed her arms.

"No," she said. "Carson, I can't authorise my CMO on this type of off-world mission. As far as we know, it could be anyone."

"It's my fault he's in this mess!" Carson exploded. "He's running hot on enzyme, Elizabeth. That makes him unstable at best and he needs urgent medical attention."

"None of which you can give if he's holding a gun on you."

"Ye don't know tha' – "

"And you don't know that he won't. But what we both know is that John will do everything to bring Lt. Ford back to Atlantis. You can't ask any more than that."

Carson contemplated sneaking off-world, which would be easy enough. Disappear. Reappear. Jump through the 'gate and – wait, what?

"Bloody insanity," he said, perturbed. "Usually I'd be the one objecting to using the Stargate."

Elizabeth smiled comfortably and leaned against the edge of her desk. Unspoken tension dissipated between them and Carson suddenly remembered their truce – that being the one that acknowledged her as his boss, even though he could make the lights in her office go disco for as long as he wanted. And then there was the issue of the IOA, who would love to hear about his antics and use it as an excuse to blow up Atlantis.

It had been no consolation to hear Woolsey's assurances that such a scenario would never happen, because there were worse things than Naquada bombs.

"Sorry, love," Carson said.

Dr Weir gave a short nod. "I understand. I'll let you know how it develops."

Spinning towards the door quickly, causing his labcoat to swish out to the side, Carson hurried back off to his work. Thinking of the pallid Wraith stretched out on a table waiting for him, he slowed his step. Hmm. Maybe he should take the scenic route back.

_It's a five syllable word, Carsie-buns._

He rolled his eyes. _Aye, and what's that?_

_Pro-cras-tin-a-tion._

"I'm not – !" Carson started hotly and cut himself off.

A pair of eyebrows lifted from behind a console, followed by a set of dark eyes. After a moment, Peter Grodin leapt up and waved with a screwdriver. Carson mentally tapped into the console and couldn't find any particular reason for the technician to be there, or why he would choose to be holding a tool that didn't match most of Atlantis' systems.

"Oh, this?" Grodin looked at his hand. "Well, Thursday night is role playing night and this week I got to choose the fandom and – "

Carson chuckled. "So I see. And which one are ye, lad?"

"Fourth – I even have the scarf."

"I'm partial to Ninth myself," Carson admitted. "I saw some of the new series when I was on Earth last."

Grodin slipped the screwdriver into his pocket. "We don't have a Ninth. Care to join us?"

"I'd better not risk my reputation."

_Autopsy, autopsy_, Carson reminded himself sternly.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir tapped the earpiece of her headset against her chin. Apart from being a habit born of a year's worth of anxiety that saved her fingernails from behind chewed on, it afforded her some time. The gesture was easily enough seen through the glass panels and looked rather too official, which meant that anyone approaching would see it as a sign that she was busy.

In the days before Atlantis, she had perfected a clenching of her fingers on the table in front of her. An impressive barricade against diplomats – it had progressed into crossing her arms when there was no table to utilise.

But now she was thinking. John and Teyla had gone missing, which itself was a concern, but then there was the added complication of Aiden Ford. Colonel Caldwell had made it very clear with an abrupt visit what he thought would be a sufficient military solution – which still left a squirm in Elizabeth's stomach.

She hadn't known Ford that well – he was a "yes" man, John's understudy, someone who wouldn't betray the loyalty to his command.

Elizabeth looked at her nails, attempted to resist, still attempted – then gave in.

"Doctor Weir?" a voice enquired from the door.

Dropping her hand guiltily, Elizabeth nodded. "Nena. Any difficulties I should brace myself for in the city clean up?"

"Do you want an exact numerical value?" Nena asked, beaming.

The entity of Atlantis flowed into the room, a swirl of white fabric and graceful pixels – though Nena hardly looked like a hologram, though admittedly she was substantial enough to be human. Elizabeth envied Nena's sculptured hairstyle of the day, one that piled upon itself to pull up her hair and simultaneously shower the bun at the back of her head with curls.

Contemplating the woman across the table, Elizabeth finally answered, "Be as vague as you like."

"Then I would say that you are going to have a greater headache than you do now."

"Simplify," Elizabeth requested mildly, rubbing the skin above her eyes.

Nena covered her smile by pressing her lips together. "I would like your opinion on something."

"Okay, you have my ear for the next few minutes."

"First, you need to come with me," Nena told her. "I do not think it is healthy for any leader to stew in their office in plain sight. Secondly, it's towards the bottom of the city. And thirdly...I had this point planned, but I can't seem to find it in my databanks."

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek, but one corner of her lips acknowledged Nena's comment by lifting slightly.

* * *

The air slipped up his nostrils, chugged around there for a while and slowly receded out the way it came. Rodney McKay drew another breath and his vision started sparkling – which was definitely a bad sign, because the next thing would be extra dizziness, a descent into ramblings about Algebra Club and then death.

"Would you relax, McKay?" demanded Ford.

Rodney fought with his lungs again, peered over at his...twisted version of a guide. "Maybe if you weren't, oh, waving a gun in my face, I might be able to relax but wait, I'm only hours away from suffering heat stroke which is what you clearly...and...Algebra Club," he finished, panicked.

A rough laugh burst out of Aiden and he shook his head, grinning at a point to the fart left of Rodney. "So tell me, how's everyone? How's Nena? They give her a name?"

Rodney stopped short and crossed his arms, wincing as the rubber squeaked over his elbows and forearms.

"Give who a name?" he postulated suspiciously.

"The baby!" Ford chortled. "I want to know everything. What's she like? She keeping the doc up late at night? I bet she is, if she's anything like my baby cousin."

"And why should I tell you anything?"

"Because I have a gun and it's loaded?"

A very awkward pause ensued. Rodney swallowed and backed up against a tree.

Lt. Ford tucked the gun into a holster and waved his free hand in a placating gesture. "It's a joke, McKay! Seriously, I want to know how it's all going. I don't exactly get the Atlantean Times, do I?"

"Does the safety of Atlantis mean anything to you, at all?" Rodney asked, throwing in a disdainful snort, which was clearly deserved. "The Wraith could have discovered our brilliant bit of deception, engineered mostly by myself, and what did you do? You nearly alerted them to gate travel! No – no, you don't have any right to hear anything about my god-daughter!"

Patting the holster absently, Ford nodded a couple of times before snatching the front of Rodney's suit. He dragged the scientist along the foliage until Rodney balanced himself enough to shuffle along beside him. Ford mused, "Godfather, huh? You think you can look after her if Nena and Beckett die? I'm doing what I can for them!"

Rodney shrugged him off, feeling slightly smug then realised Ford had already let go of him. "Yes – yes, if I have to, I will look after Meredith – "

"Meredith. That's a nice name."

"Look, are you sure you know where Sheppard and Teyla are?" Rodney asked to cover his mistake. "As far as I can tell, you're just taking us around in circles!"

"You couldn't walk a circle if you had a map, McKay."

"I just wouldn't walk at all!" Rodney shot back, stopping again.

A very black, and very menacing, eye turned to slice right through a stomach already predisposed to weakness. Ford flipped out the gun, running his gaze down the barrel in slow, deliberate contemplation. He informed his companion calmly, "Sorry to tell you this, but you're going to walk. And you're going to walk now."

"Again with the gun. Do you have any idea how off-putting that is?"

Ford leered. "It's still loaded."

* * *

One of the most typical and annoying laws of the universe, is that whenever someone is having a really bad time – that is, becoming a melanoma awareness advert on some planet with your psycho ex-team mate – there's someone else having a laugh at your expense because they happen to be enjoying themselves.

While Rodney McKay envisioned the spires of Atlantis and Zelenka puffing on a cigar and laughing evilly, his second-in-command was actually standing knee-deep in water with his mouth stubbornly sealed, wishing he was on the dangerous planet playing footsie with a Wraith instead.

Several queries about his progress crept in one ear, found an unsatisfactory welcome in Radek's brain and ran screaming out the other side of his head.

"I'm cold," he said at last.

"Doesn't it get cold in Prague every year?" Bates taunted from a dry platform nearby.

"Cold," Zelenka said again.

When Nena had invited Elizabeth to dedicate her brain cells to another matter that didn't involve mysteriously dead Wraith, she'd been willing to ask a member of the science team along for an informed hypothesis. What she hadn't considered was the Head of Security gate-crashing the field trip with some excuse about it being a threat to Atlantis. Elizabeth was still unsure how to deal with Bates, even if he had seemed to mellow in the past few months. Nena, however, seemed to take delight in listening to their diatribes.

"They're always like this, I think," Nena said.

Elizabeth glanced over at Bates who was grinning far too much. "Yes, I agree. And they have far too much fun doing it."

Zelenka cleared this throat. "Ah, Nena? So what you're saying is you have a...blind spot?"

"More numb with occasional squealing static," Nena supplied. "It's always been a bit funky but since the Wraith came, it's been worse. You know I'd barely known Carson a few days when I made him pump the water out before."

"Severed connection? Is that the problem?"

Nena shrugged. "It's not a vital system, but it is extremely annoying."

"But in the off-chance that we would need to evacuate," Elizabeth said, "it would be nice to have a way out that the Wraith can't immediately detect."

"That's if the 'Jumpers were actually waterproof," Bates pointed out.

Three pairs of eyes turned on the entity of Atlantis and the unspoken question lingered.

"Don't look at me," Nena said. "I didn't have anything to do with that. They built it that way. I wasn't allowed any say in how I was created."

Zelenka made an unconvinced exclamation that might have been one of his favoured Czech curses before wading over to the console. He flicked, he took notes and he squinted closely at a panel. It bloomed blue and cracked neatly down the middle. Casting a quick eye back to make sure no one had noticed, he held the pieces together and thought.

What Would McKay Do?

_Probably stall long enough to blame it on irreparable aging, _he considered gloomily.

"Uh oh," he said out loud.

"Uh oh what?" Elizabeth asked.

Five seconds later, three heads were bobbing against the ceiling and Zelenka's electronic tablet had drifted aimlessly through the water to end up somewhere near the floor. Nena's coding allowed her to walk beneath their feet and she resisted the temptation to tickle anyone. She watched the tablet settle next to her feet.

"It's cold," Bates noted.

"Extremely," Zelenka said to this.

Silence, then – "At least it's not sewage this time."

"Much better, ano."

Nena's face rose out of the water, hair still dry enough to bounce as she greeted them. Elizabeth Weir, respected leader of Atlantis, did her best to stave off annoyance though her smile shivered with more than cold.

"Care to tell us something?" Elizabeth asked.

"Umm...well whatever Radek was doing – I know it's not your fault you poor thing – it locked down this section and displaced all the water in this room."

Bates thrashed around in the water and collided with Zelenka who pushed him back against the wall. The sergeant hooked an index finger over the bridge of Radek's glasses and ripped them off, sending them flying across the room. It smacked into the wall, plopped down and disappeared.

"Nepravý!" Zelenka growled.

Bates attempted to kick him, missed and ended up face first in the water. Shaking his fingers through his hair, he muttered, "I was trying to reach my radio, okay?"

"And did you?"

"...it's wet."

"Mine's gone also," Elizabeth added, wishing she hadn't been tapping her chin with the headset at the time. "Nena, can you – Nena?"

The entity of Atlantis frowned through the wall beside her for a moment. Her image shimmered out of view for twenty seconds and then wavered back into view.

"John has reported in," Nena said. "He says there's some weird guy with dreds and a bad attitude keeping Teyla hostage unless they send a doctor. Dreds," she repeated, eyebrows inclining towards each other.

"I think I would have preferred to watch the kettle boil than be here right now," Elizabeth said more to herself.

A splash announced the arrival of Carson Beckett. Slicking back his hair over the top of his head, the distinct lack of pointy hair made him look somewhat lost. At least he didn't stay immaculate, Elizabeth thought with some relief.

"Elizabeth, I'm no' sending another doctor and while I respect ye and – "

"Carson," she began.

"... and, what, lass?"

Resting a hand on the arm of his sodden lab coat, Dr Weir said firmly, "I wouldn't send any other. You have my total confidence. And if you...cross paths with Lieutenant Ford, do what you can to bring him back. He's one of ours and he needs to come home."

"Can I go too?" Zelenka grumbled.

Carson flicked a wry smile in his direction. "Sorry, Radek. To do tha', ye'd need to be part of the coding. Which means we'd have to get married and no offence, yer a lovely lad, but there's only one for me."

Bates covered his mouth with a hand and released a wet chuckle. The scientist blindly lunged out, found his nose and pulled him under the water. Elizabeth raised her eyes to the grey ceiling mere inches from her forehead.

"Make it quick, Carson," she said flatly.

"It'll only take a jiffy, I promise."

After a swift, hard kiss delivered to his wife, Carson vanished. Nena sighed and floated off towards Zelenka. Waving a few fingers in front of his face, she deduced that he wasn't entirely blind and said, "I'll need your help to fix it. I can't feel what's wrong but you've got a good set of hands."

"I need glasses," he pointed out, glowering at Bates.

Nena dived. Nena returned. A set of broken glasses appeared in her hand. Zelenka held them in one hand and looked like he was either going to pray or commit murder. Sighing, he perched them on his nose. "It will have to do, I suppose."

She waved and sunk back down. Zelenka followed, but not before using Sgt. Bates to kick off from. For half a minute, Elizabeth and Bates stared down through the relatively clear water, watching Nena gesture and Zelenka attempting to keep his feet on to ground. Bubbles exploded up towards the surface as the scientist returned, gasping for breath.

He ranted through chattering teeth and it took everyone present a while to figure out he was actually speaking English.

"He was trying to reroute the power from the lights to the door mechanism," Nena translated. "But I don't think he can see too well."

"Can't you do it?" Elizabeth prompted.

"Water affects my corporeality. I might generate feedback which would destroy the entire thing."

Elizabeth levelled her gaze at Radek. "Then tell me what to do."

"I've had training with underwater conditions – it should be me," Bates supplied.

Zelenka spat water at him.

"Sergeant, from what I can see," Elizabeth said, peering down, "there's Ancient written on the panels. I can read it so I will get it done quicker and I've had experience with cold water."

"Oh yeah, when?"

"Skinny dipping, Moscow."

"All yours, m'am."

* * *

Hairy behemoth on the loose: check.

Thrumming concussion-induced headache: check.

The sound of imminent doom: double check.

Muffling the all too familiar whine of Wraith darts to the back of his head, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard focused on the indomitable shout of terror that Rodney McKay had practically patented. John wouldn't put it past him, actually.

Ducking low, he barrelled through the underbrush and stopped short behind a tree. Footsteps, nearby. Footsteps...behind him? Stretching out, John grabbed the shoulder of his pursuer. He squinted through the shadows and was impressed despite himself. But this was no time for amateurs.

"Beckett, get back to the cave," he ordered.

"If yer after Aiden," Atlantis' CMO entreated, "then I need to be there. It's my fault."

"I really don't have time to argue right now. Stay low, keep quiet."

John didn't worry about what would happen if a stray beam scooped them up – for one, Carson was immune to feeding and two...there should be a two. Oh yeah – he could shoot a whole bunch of them the moment they re-materialised him. Not exactly a comforting number two, but he didn't have a lot of options.

He heard the heavy trampling and solid fleshy thuds before he ever saw the silhouettes in the clearing up ahead. Both were engaged in a fight that didn't look like it'd be taking a round two any time soon. The smaller of them bent down towards a Wraith stunner. This seemed like a good enough time for an interruption. John stood to his full height and left the tree line, holding his P90 steady.

"Lieutenant! Don't."

Leaves whisked and swished behind him as Carson Beckett entered plain sight.

"Ye can come back, Aiden," the doctor implored. "No one will think any less of ye."

Ford's coal black eye fixed on him. "That's right, they won't. Because I'm doing everyone a favour. But you gotta let me have the enzyme – "

"No! I can't – " Carson protested.

"Then I can't come back yet."

"That's just stupid, Ford!" John bit out.

"You're only saying that because you haven't seen the flip-side, Colonel!" Aiden snapped. "And once you do, you'll know what I'm talking about. You'll see."

He turned and ran into an oncoming slice of light.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir tilted back in her chair and stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The ceiling swam all different shades of silver and light blue as her eyes watered. She lost the battle, opened her mouth and sneezed loudly into her hand.

"Please tell me you have some good news," she said.

Zelenka, having located his spare glasses, was the happier for it. He beamed. "Ah, yes, well it was not a total loss. The original mechanism will take more time and resources than is wise to repair, so a permanent solution to the water is not so high in priorities. However, I have fashioned a temporary method of draining the area, if we ever need it."

Elizabeth rested the tip of her headset beneath her lips. "We probably will need it at some point. Good work, Radek."

Once he'd left, Elizabeth saw that Nena had suddenly taken up residence in his chair.

"I wanted to thank you," Elizabeth told her.

Nena smiled uncertainly. "I had an apology planned and everything."

"I needed a distraction and I needed to prove I could do something. Today's experience was one I wouldn't want to repeat, but if I ever am impatient again, I'll know what lesson to keep in mind."

Swirling blue washed over the walls as the Stargate activated. Both women quickly looked to it and watched as those important to them returned.

* * *

Carson Beckett had kept vigil at many bedsides since some fool had given him a piece of paper giving him that right at medical school. The vigils were never mentioned in exams, nor the heartache when the only result was a flat line. This time, in the midnight quiet of the infirmary, he could relax.

Amidst the figures of sleeping patients and shadows of alien machinery, Carson felt like he had been dissolved into the dark grey of the infirmary. A year ago, this would have been perfectly normal and he imagined it was. His greatest responsibility would be to the sleeping giant, from whose paw he had plucked a rather nasty Wraith thorn.

The constant hum wending its way through the canals of his brain reminded him otherwise. Married to the entity of the city, incorporated into the very systems...he didn't dare mention it to Nena, but in the depths of night he wondered if he was still human. Oh, it felt real enough, living with her in virtu-Atlantis. She was there now, as always.

Peeling back the latex that clung to his fingers, Carson tossed his gloves into the nearest bin. His skin greedily sucked in the fresh air, growing clammy immediately.

"You going to sit there staring all night?" his patient demanded gruffly.

Carson eyed him warily. "I was thinking about it. I could pretend to have something better to do, if ye'd like."

"I'll save you the time. I feel fine. Whatever you did, it worked."

"That's the painkillers," Carson explained with a smile. "I expect ye'd be back within a couple of hours if I let ye go now. They have set up some quarters for ye, but I understand they will be guarded."

Ronon Dex regarded him without expression, twitched his large shoulders in what could be a shrug and tilted his head to focus on the plexiglass windows that shimmered in the moonlight. "Don't blame them. I've seen and heard too much about the city of the ancestors already."

"Yer not planning on telling people, I gather."

"I was thinking about it," Dex drawled. "But I don't particularly have anything better to do right now than stay here."

Carson chuckled. "Good lad. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Yeah, some more of that stuff that makes you feel like wool."

Seeing the tightening around his patient's eyes, Beckett guessed that he was in more pain than he would let on. Silently obliging with the painkillers, he watched until Ronon abandoned his tense hunch in favour of reclining against the pillows before relaxing himself. Ronon shifted and patted the base of his neck with a calloused hand briefly.

"I'm not sure I can repair the scar tissue," Carson confessed after a moment.

"Not like I have to look at it anyway."

Point. Embarrassed, Carson remembered that his coding made him immune to many injuries while on Atlantis – though he'd yet to test that theory off-world. The prospect of never scarring frightened him.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

Dex's expression remained neutral. Carson took that as a no.

"What's your part of all this?" Ronon instead threw a query at him.

Dr Beckett scuffed a hand over his hair, which he'd taken great pains to gel properly once he'd got back from the planet. "Well...I'm the Chief Medical Officer and – "

"It's more than a job that keeps you here."

"That's true," Carson agreed. "My wife, ye could say she's from here. And our daughter is a wee thing..."

"What's her name?"

"Meredith Mary Beckett."

"Bit of a mouthful," Ronon said.

"I've known worse, trust me."

A cloud passed over the prominent moon of the planet, forcing deeper shadows over limbs and expressions. For a few minutes, doctor and patient sat in the relative quiet of the infirmary, until the corners brightened once more. The pensive moment passed.

Ronon wrestled with the sheets and kicked them off. He crossed his arms over his armour and launched his next query. "I heard you married a chair. That true?"

"Good Lord!" Carson exclaimed. "Ye've heard that rumour already?"

"So it's true, then."

"It's a little more complicated than that..."

To his credit, Ronon didn't spontaneously burst into laughter at any point of Carson's story, though it may have been for other reasons than lax acceptance. Midnight had long passed when the tale reached more recent times and months of exhaustion were by now doing a better job on Dex than any sedative. Stretching one limb at a time out of the chair, Carson offered a farewell around a yawn.

A hoarse voice paused his departure. "Beckett?"

"Aye?"

"How do you have sex with a chair?"

* * *

And somewhere on a disused part of the South pier, John Sheppard found the perfect spot to establish a driving range. It was probably a good thing there were no residences nearby, or his triumphant whoop would have raised more than a few complaints from sleepy Lanteans.

* * *

AN: This was more of a bridging chapter, to introduce Ronon, so I promise a bit more new stuff in the next part. Hope you enjoyed. :)


	3. Carson's List of Things to Worry About

Story 3 - Carson's List of Things to Worry About

* * *

Midnight on Atlantis. Observed only by insomniacs, worried scientists and anyone else who woke abruptly with the nagging feeling that they'd misplaced some vital part of themselves while they were dreaming. Carson Beckett wasn't sure which category he belonged to, or if he should create one for himself. Sleep-deprived father, possibly.

Standing on the balcony of his quarters, he felt alone in the dim glow of two failing moons. The quiet protest passing the lips of the baby in his arms drew his attention down. Carson smiled at his daughter, cradling her against his chest.

"Do ye fancy a bedtime story?" he asked. "Or should I just sing ye to sleep?"

Meredith blinked indifferently.

"Aye, yer right. This is nice for us, isn't it, just us two having a chat. Yer still young enough to listen to me, but as soon as tomorrow ye'll be chasing boys and not standing still long enough for me to give ye a kiss."

Carson pressed his lips to her forehead and drew away smiling. Her eyes had closed and her breathing slowed to deep, chesty breaths.

"I thought you said you were too buggered to take baby duty tonight?" a voice teased from behind.

Turning and holding a finger to his lips, Carson dropped his hand and smiled at his wife. "Well now, how could I disappoint the lass after coming to her rescue every other night?"

"What about me?" pouted Nena. "Don't tell me you've forgotten all about me."

"How could I do that, love? I'd sooner board a hive ship than risk yer wrath."

"You'd better kiss me then, Carsie-buns."

Shifting Meredith into one arm, Carson wound his other around Nena, nuzzling the size of her face. The entity of Atlantis leaned back just before their lips met. She tutted. "And do you go around kissing just anyone? I hear you're popular with all the human women."

"Now, love, that business with Lieutenant Cadman…" Beckett stopped and blushed. "It wasn't my fault, ye know. The lass was acting that way because it might not have worked…"

"Everyone knows that. But does your wife?"

Carson snorted and snatched the kiss from her. He was silently grateful to any cosmic power in the universe that Nena had not taken it the wrong way. Much as the doctor had been worried for his best friend (not that Rodney ever needed to be made aware of that title) recovering from the dart-induced schizophrenia, he'd sat in the infirmary to make sure that Nena didn't swoop in and exact her particular brand of vengeance on Cadman.

He'd fallen asleep on that duty and woken up to witness Nena and Laura holding mugs of infirmary-grade coffee – which was a rather exceptional brew, if Carson did say so himself. The two women had been trading giggly whispers in the corner and eating their way through a bag of Butterfingers. Since then, Carson had not worried too much and carried the hope that Nena had finally outgrown the need to jealously guard her husband.

Mind you, he wouldn't say no to her locking Dr Biro something dark and scary for a few days.

"I'll put Meredith to bed," Nena murmured into the corner of his lips.

"Oh? What reason would there be for that? She'll just be awake in an hour or so. Ye know it."

Nena pulled back, scooping her daughter into her arms. She laughed and shook her head. "That's not your problem tonight. You need sleep, my love."

The two most important women in Carson's life shimmered into thin air. He leaned back against the railing, arms folded behind him, smiling into the empty doorway on the balcony. After a moment, he walked into his quarters and collapsed onto the bed, stomach first. Face buried in the pillow, he considered disappearing away to virtu-Atlantis.

"Too bloody tired," he mumbled and went straight to sleep.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us," John Sheppard greeted slyly from his chair.

Carson pulled a face and settled himself between Elizabeth and Ronon. He hadn't meant to oversleep and he certainly hadn't expected his wife to switch off his alarm. Just another bit of daily mayhem, he supposed.

"Hullo there, John," he returned. "I don't suppose ye've taken lessons in manners from Rodney?"

Lt. Colonel Sheppard propped up a knee against the table, titling back his chair. He offered a crooked grin before giving a sweeping gesture towards the doctor's end of the table. He brought a finger back to his lips and made a quiet shhhing noise. Dr McKay rolled his eyes. "Are you in primary school?"

"You didn't raise your hand," John said.

Ronon cleared his throat. "Are we supposed to?"

"No," Teyla answered, resting her hands on the table. "That practice is for those of us who have not yet reached adulthood."

John stared at her. His mouth slowly opened, then snapped shut. He laughed and threw his hand up in the air, jerking it around insistently. After a few seconds of fighting it, Elizabeth allowed her smile to dart over her face before masking it by covering her mouth with well-placed fingers that hopefully made her look pensive.

"What is it, John?" she acknowledged.

He dropped his hand. "Since this is going to be Ronon's first mission with the team, don't you think we should do something a little special?"

Dr Weir let her brow fall to the bridge of her hand and said nothing.

"Colonel," warned Teyla.

Ronon looked unconcerned, linking his hands behind his head. His armour pulled tight with this action, though didn't make a sound despite the type of material. He glanced around the silent table. "Are we going to do this thing or what?"

"Actually, before we get to the briefing, there's one thing we need to do," Elizabeth informed them all. "Carson?"

Beckett scrunched back the sleeves of his dark jacket to his elbows and said, "Thank ye, love. As I'm sure ye know, there's plenty of times when teams are stranded or lost, so it would come in handy if we could touch a button and know where ye are. Nena says there's a way to fashion an insertable ship that can relay your position straight to the sensors, no matter where in the galaxy ye happen to be."

"Great, when do we get them?" John asked.

"It will take a wee bit of time and some adjustments but – "

A heavy fist slammed onto the table, making Elizabeth's paper bounce a few inches off course. Rodney scooped up his coffee and held it protectively away from the table. Ronon Dex snarled, "Any man who comes near me with that chip thing is going to wish they were born without extremities."

Awkward silence ensued. Staring down into his lap, Carson swallowed. "That's well enough. I'm not saying ye have to use it. It's just something to think about."

"It's been thought about enough," Ronon said in a low voice.

Sheppard coughed loudly into the back of his hand. "Oookay, next topic for discussion."

"I won't disagree there," Elizabeth said. "The planet doesn't appear to be inhabited, though there are catacombs that the team before you discovered. This isn't a dangerous mission – that we know of – but don't think of it as a routine check-up."

Rodney crossed his arms. "Couldn't you give us something a little more important than sloppy seconds?"

His expression turned from sour to indignant, as he leaped of his chair and rubbed his shin. Glaring across the table at the most likely suspects to have kicked him, the scientist finally settled on the Satedan.

"You were disrespecting your superior by questioning orders," Ronon said by way of explanation. "And next time, keep your feet on your side. Or you'll probably lose them."

Beckett looked sideways at him. "Are ye always this friendly?"

Ronon gave him a feral grin in return.

* * *

Walking through the control room, Carson had to stop. Something seemed out of place. He scanned the room with the sensors, finding two other people in the room with him. Chuck was on duty by the Ancient DHD, nodding his head frequently with telltale white earphones in his ears. He even strummed an invisible guitar.

Carson got to his knees and peeked under the console. He found Radek Zelenka curled up in a ball, snoring quietly as he slept. Bemused, the CMO stood up and patted Chuck on the shoulder.

"There's no incoming wormhole!" Chuck shouted.

Flicking the earphones out of Chuck's ears, Carson said, "Yes, thank ye son, I'm aware of that. Do ye happen to know why Radek is asleep here?"

The Canadian's eyes darted down to Zelenka, a smirk writing its way across his face. He waggled two fingers at Carson, indicating that he should move in closer. When the doctor was in position, Chuck explained in a hushed whisper, "No one's buying his chocolate stash anymore. They say there's a new player in the market. I don't know who it is, but they are way cheaper than Dr Zelenka. The stress is getting to him."

"Are ye saying that after a Wraith siege and countless other things to worry about…" Carson began slowly. "...Radek has finally lost it over some chocolate?"

"Yep. Makes you wonder, though. Has to be someone with real balls to take down Zelenka's empire like that."

"Or just common sense, perhaps."

Carson cast one last sympathetic look down at his friend before leaving the control room. He had learnt over his time on Atlantis that it was better to let scientists sleep where they had fallen, rather than risk a caffeine-deprived diatribe thrown into his face. This was an important lesson he'd yet to pass on to the newer doctors in his infirmary; a group of too young and too uptight graduates with a preference for 9-to-5 work than graveyard shifts.

Thinking about them made him feel old and nervous.

_I'll not die as long as I'm here_, Carson reminded himself.

It shocked him that the words came so easily to his mind.

"Damn it," he murmured out loud.

Yet another thing to worry about. He didn't dare approach Nena about his current concerns. It was too easy a crutch to pass off his fear of death. He feared for Meredith. He feared outliving his friends.

Admittedly, this is not a problem that many humans must face in any lifetime. But for Carson Beckett, who wasn't even sure if he was human anymore, it was a troubling thought.

Rodney McKay, on another planet, decided that to be human was to suffer the errors of others. His main problem was falling down a seven foot hole with only three ration bars. This would soon enough be added to Carson's List of Things To Worry About.

* * *

The first thing that Dr Beckett noticed upon arriving on the alien planet was that a lot of the trees seemed to be blue or purple. The second thing to grab his attention was John and Teyla waiting a little way down the path from the Stargate, casually talking with their weapons holstered. Stumbling over the odd rock or two in the path and lugging a medical case, as well as a coil of rope around his shoulder, Carson had expected a little more mayhem and a lot more of a pain in the neck.

"Alright then, what seems to be the emergency?" he asked.

Sheppard lifted a hand in greeting. "Rodney's stuck in a hole."

"Our attempts to guide him out have been…" Teyla hesitated. "...met with some resistance."

"I brought some rope, as ordered. What do you mean resistance?"

They began walking through the trees, leaving the patchy but safer path. John kept ahead, slashing branches out of the way with his hands and forcing Carson to duck behind him. Teyla brought up the rear. They'd gone a few metres before John explained, "He keeps insisting that he's broken something. He's blaming Ronon for walking in front of and distracting him at a crucial moment."

"Rodney did not see the hole until it was too late," the Athosian added.

Carson smiled briefly. "And where is Ronon at the moment?"

"Oh we left him with Rodney," John replied, unconcerned. "They need a bit of team bonding and Ronon's going to have to get used to him sometime."

"Oh my God."

* * *

"Go fish!" challenged Evan Lorne.

The head of in-house security of Atlantis peeked over the edge of his cards, before lowering so that his forehead was all that his opponent could see. Finally, Bates set his fingertips on the desk between them, forcing them inch by inch across the lacquered surface until they touched the tip of the card pile. He snapped up the top card and sliced it in between the cards he held in his hand. Lorne nodded his head several times, smiling, before saying, "Any fives?"

"Go…" Bates curled his lip. "Go fuc – "

A loud, fast and bedraggled scientist burst into the room. This kind of thing didn't usually happen to Bates, though it had happened once to Lorne, with exactly the same person. Dr Radek Zelenka held up a finger to silence them and continued tumbling out words and vague obscenities. Lorne and Bates exchanged resigned glances.

"This is a matter of great importance to the security of Atlantis!" finished Zelenka, flicking a hand through the mop of his hair that had settled across his glasses.

Sergeant Bates threw down his cards rather quickly. "We're all ears, Doctor."

Evan's eyebrows crept up towards his hairline and he shook his head. Sore loser that one. He gathered up the cards and wound an elastic band over the set. He kicked the chair beside him out so that there was enough room for Radek to plonk down onto it. And plonk down he did. Coaxing his glasses from his eyes, revealing dark shadows and fine lines of stress, Zelenka flopped back against the chair.

"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the chocolate thing?" Lorne asked.

Radek nodded hastily. "Ano, yes, it has everything to do with it. While I had control of the market, we could be assured of where the, ah, items in questions were coming from. Guaranteed source. But this new threat could spell disaster for the expedition!"

"Believe me, I'd like to take any threat seriously," Bates said. "But Dr Weir has made it very clear that my position here is one of grace, and that any resources I ask to use in investigations must go through her first."

"We could...make informal inquiries to the usual suspects," Evan suggested.

"Case out known places of trade…pick-up points and customers…"

"Then when we close in, what, let Zelenka have a monopoly on the trade?"

"You were the one who said we should make inquiries."

"Is this a serious threat though?"

"We could make it one."

"I get your thinking there."

Zelenka squirmed forward in the chair to regard them closely, squinting until he realised he should put his glasses back on. Once restored to the world of sight, the scientist's eyes widened. Then narrowed. Then widened again. His mouth soon followed.

"You know, you two are slightly scary," he observed.

Lorne rested his hand over the gun sitting across his lap and demanded, "Do you want us to check this out or not?"

* * *

Carson stood on the rim of the hole and almost lurched forward as he lowered his gaze down, down into the dark shaft awaiting him. The trees surrounding them swayed and moaned as an unsettled breeze wafted through the woods, though failing to topple the gelled perfection that was Dr Beckett's hair this particular day. It certainly looked a good deal better than whatever John was trying to pull off.

"Rodney?" he called down.

"Thank God, finally someone who knows what they're doing!" bounced back up with a slight echo.

Carson closed his eyes in relief. "Glad to see yer still responsive. I've brought a rope – are ye able to use yer hands?"

"I can't move my fingers and I think that's bad, isn't bad isn't? I'll have to relay everything through Zelenka and he couldn't even be a typist for someone with a monosyllabic vocabulary. I can't do that!"

"Alright, we get the picture," Carson told him flatly. "I'll come down myself."

A few minutes later, with the rope tied through carabiners secured to a harness, Carson was ready to make the descent. He warily handed over the end of the rope to Ronon.

"I haven't dropped anyone," Dex said seriously. "Yet."

The CMO turned away to hide his expression, which he suspected was a cross between grim humour and appalled fear. Despite himself, he snuck a look back over his shoulder. Ronon's smirk was enough for him. John offered to also hold the rope, but was dissuaded rather forcefully when Ronon dug fingers into his chest and shoved him away.

"Wookiee life debts," John muttered aside to Teyla.

Teyla angled her quizzical frown at him and shook her head briefly. Her CO shrugged with one side of his lips crinkling his cheek in response. Men will be men, especially in other galaxies, though John would never have said such a thing in front of anyone from the US military. He had an image to uphold.

Carson wove his tongue around his teeth as he was carefully lowered down into the hole. It wasn't a tight fit, though he would certainly have felt more comfortable in something a little wider. A flash of light blinded him and quite abruptly his feet then backside grazed rocks and soil. Confused, he unbuckled himself from the rope, turning his head side to side. His eyes landed on Rodney who was standing upright in a passageway supported by wooden beams. The scientist was busily tapping his fingers over a door of what looked to be Lantean design.

"I'm close to leaving ye down here," Carson threatened. "I was worried ye might be hurt, but what are ye doing? Passing the time quite comfortably, I see."

He tapped his radio but static growled back at him. Sloping back onto his elbows, Carson yelled up, "He's fine! I'm not sure I'll bring him up in one piece at this rate."

"It would probably be easier to bury him down there, Beckett," Ronon supplied.

Rodney marched back towards the hole. "I'm right here you know! And I can hear everything you're saying or even thinking of saying. I brought Carson here for a reason. There's an Ancient laboratory down here – or at least I think it is, I've never really had much patience for this kind of translating thing – and it's not responding to any command prompts I put into the power relay."

"It's not that simple, Rodney - I'm not exactly compatible with all sorts of technology!"

"Well, you're the best idea I've had."

A request to be pulled back up dried on Carson's tongue when he focused on the door. Innate buzzing multiplied into a head-splitting wail. Clapping his hands over his ears, he stood up and raced over. Whipping his eyes over the text and finding only nonsense, he reluctantly took his hands from his head and rested them over the control panel beside the door. Something tugged from his stomach, almost pulling him flush against the wall of dirt.

"Rodney, I'm not...not feeling so well - " Carson started then fell through the gap in the wall that swiftly closed over once he'd disappeared.

* * *

Nena offered a beaming smile at Sergeant Bates as he passed in the corridor. He immediately wheeled around and shuffled his feet to match his stride to hers. Meredith, who was riding in a pouch on her mother's front, regarded him with one open eye, mouth opening into a yawn.

"I need to ask you something, m'am," he said smoothly.

"Donald!" Nena exclaimed. "I was just on my way to the mess hall. You can join me if you want – and why are you looking so down?"

Bates shot a concerned look around the general vicinity, but luckily no one had heard her address him by his mysterious first name. He tried to keep it simple. "We've received a tip that someone is operating a black market in chocolate and other supplies. I thought you might have seen something, since you're practically everywhere."

Nena stroked her fingers over the tufts of brown hair that had started to sprout over Meredith's scalp in contemplation, sending out tendrils of search protocols. The data wove its way back to her.

"I don't think I should tell you," she said at last.

"M'am?"

"Ooh I'm so sorry, but I don't want to involve myself too much with the affairs of you humans. It's just so confusing and very dangerous, wouldn't you agree?"

Bates couldn't find any anger in his heart and simply sighed. "You didn't seem to mind so much when you married Dr Beckett."

"Sorry I'm not much help!" Nena said mildly. "I'm a little busy at the moment – the physicists seem to be rerouting something they shouldn't. I thought they could do with a visit."

"I sure don't envy them," Bates said feelingly, though he was thinking about how much he envied Beckett.

* * *

An endless night sky, but without even the slightest pinprick of light. Carson held out his hands in front of himself and saw nothing, only feeling his fingers ghosting through the black. He called out and the warped echo of his own words answered him. His feet glided through empty space, dangling as he floated through eternity.

"Aye, wonderful, thank ye for this, Rodney," he muttered.

"Carson?"

What on Earth…? Blinking, he swiped his arm over his face and swiftly the darkness gave way to the gateroom of Atlantis. Most of the people gathered there stood around the edge of the room, heads bowed in respect. Elizabeth's form appeared, hand delicately placed over a coffin. Draped beneath her fingers was the blue and white of a Scottish flag. Horror swept over Carson and he tried to walk towards the coffin, but with each step it drew further away. He could hear his own voice shouting from within, "No, ye've got it wrong! I'm not dead!"

"Carson?"

Turning, he saw Nena emerging from the throng of bodies. They fell around her slowly, like falling debris in the wind. Holding out her arms, the spectre of his wife enveloped him in an embrace that seemed to fall right through him.

"I don't understand, love," he said. "What are ye doin' here? Where we we?"

Emerald eyes disintegrated into livid red and her mouth twisted into a gaping dark hole that threatened to swallow him as easily as the surrounding gloom had. Her words came hissed and strange through the sudden distance between them. "They're all going to die. And you'll be stuck here. Stuck with a chair and your progeny. You should run and never return. Maybe then you'll do the decent human thing and die."

"I-I love ye, and I love our daughter! It doesn't – it shouldn't matter!"

"They're all going to die."

"NO!"

"Carson?"

Flinging around to the source of his name, the CMO slapped the air with his hand and felt flesh give against his assault.

"OW! Carson, what'd you do that for?"

"Rodney?"

"You hit me!"

"I cannae see a bloody thing, just so ye know, and I'm sorry if I hit yet but that's the least of my concerns right now!"

"Oh. Lights. No problem, see?"

Bland white light blazed over them and Carson found himself kneeling on the floor of a chrome laboratory. Shaking, he leaned onto a bench to drag his body upright, though his legs quaked unsteadily. He looked around the lab for any sign of the coffin or Nena, but only innocuously clean metal and glass met his gaze.

"What is this place?" Carson asked quietly.

"Hmm," Rodney said to this, eyes flicking over a screen. "Ah there we go. Neurological scans, uplink protocols and...no, no, no this is bad. _Replicators_?! Carson, I need you to plug in or whatever it is you do…"

Replicators. God. Beckett had heard of those from personnel previously stationed at Stargate Command. Not a particularly pleasant bunch, and the human form ones had a nasty habit of putting their hands into people's heads.

"That is explains it then," Carson murmured, uneasily standing as far away as possible from the equipment.

"Explains what?" Rodney demanded.

The screen in front of them flickered into life, showing real time footage of them in the lab. Blocky Ancient text streamed over their faces before morphing into English.

_Hello, consort of Atlantis._

Carson moved forward carefully, eyeing it. "What do ye want?"

_You are not machine. Yet you are not human like your companion._

"I am bloody human!"

_You are data. Corporeal data. I want to be corporeal. A body. They said they would give me one. Can you give me one?_

"Who are 'they', then?" Carson asked.

_The great ones. They created me. To exist. To replicate. I need a body to continue these functions._

"Do we look like Bodies'R'Us?" snapped Rodney. "From what I can tell, your power reserves aren't anything fantastic. You're a machine. You don't exist or have any actual thought processes that aren't programmed into you."

_If that is how you wish to think…_

The screen went dark. Carson swallowed. "Rodney…"

Sharp needles shot into his skull, ripping right through. Crying out, Carson backpedaled towards the door just as it shut. He slammed back into it, fingers scrabbling at his temples as the mental assault continued. After squeezing his eyes shut, he wrenched them open to see not the room but lines of blue and green letters, chasing each other round and round. He was aware of someone pushing him roughly around, but then it didn't matter as the text began to screech into his face. And the faces of his friends howled up from the ground, mixed with the multiple faces of his wife and daughter.

"Oh no ye don't! Ye don't get to touch them!"

Carson battered his way through the coding, blowing person-shaped holes through the programming. An electronic whine pierced the space between them, dragging him forward into oblivion.

_If you will not give me a body, I will take yours!_

Carson screamed.

And then he hit the ground solidly, staring up at John and Ronon who stood over him in the outside tunnel.

"Good Lord," Beckett said. "It tried to...it tried to take over my body."

John held up an unused block of C4. "We thought you could use some help. We blew the door in – we made sure hollered through first though. Rodney heard us and got you out of the way just in time."

"This C4 stuff," Ronon said. "Is it standard issue?"

"Let's just take it one step at a time, Ronon," John responded wryly.

Carson frowned. "And the lab?"

"Not enough power to even blink," Rodney assured from his position under the hole, rope cinched around a harness on his person. "Which is a shame, actually, because this would be the first recorded replicator laboratory in the universe. If the Juggernaughts here hadn't barged their way in, there might have been enough power to actually take a look and – "

Ronon tugged hard on the rope over the scientist's head and he started bobbing his way up. Gesturing up to Teyla, the Satedan glanced back down. "You okay, Beckett?"

"I will be when I'm out of here."

* * *

Napping on an infirmary bed is a particularly risky venture. Usually there is the chance of an ill member of the expedition stumbling in and emptying the contents of their stomach over the hapless napper, or that the Chief Medical Officer will shake them awake demanding to know why they were taking up a precious bed instead of doing actual work.

Carson was in no such danger of this.

No, instead, a dazzling display of pixels exploded into being beside the bed before Nena tackled him, kissing him into consciousness. Opening his eyes and smiling up at her, Carson rolled her over so that she was beneath him.

"This is a PG-13 rated infirmary, guys," someone noted from nearby.

Evan Lorne was lying in another bed, band-aids dotted all over his forehead and idly sipping from a fruit juice popper. He waved at them. "Yeah, hi. You're stuck here with me."

"What happened, lad?" Carson asked, sliding out of bed to hurry over.

"Oh. Well I got this lead that there was about to be a movement of chocolate from the West pier to one of the training rooms. I might have, uh, accused Lieutenant Cadman of doing it. She challenged me to a wrestling match."

"I take it she won then."

Lorne grimaced. "Hell of a left hook. Didn't expect it. And I still have no idea if she's behind the new Atlantis black market."

Both men glanced over as Nena started giggling. She held up a Butterfinger, munched off the end and tossed the rest over to Evan's outstretched hand.

"Can you actually eat?" the Major asked curiously.

"Sort of…" Nena mused. "I think it's a little too complicated to explain."

Carson rolled his eyes. "She means that experiences of consuming the item can be logged into her databanks, but it cannot be digested physically."

She spat out the rest of the chocolate and offered it to Lorne. He politely refused.

Carson grinned. "Now where were we, my dear?"

"I think we need to talk."

"Och, I was afraid ye'd say that."

* * *

Radek Zelenka slumbered on his bed, so beyond exhaustion that he didn't even wake when someone crept into his room. They peered down at him, shook their head and left a half-eaten Butterfinger on his bedside table.

Grinning, his rival slipped out the door.

When Radek finally managed to get out of bed some hours later, he immediately stomped on the offending chocolate and threw it out his window.

"This is not over!" he muttered angrily.

* * *

AN: Hmm. This fic is getting insanely long. Another big thing on the agenda is the rather terrible accent markers I've been using since I was 15. I kept them on in this series for nostalgia, but now it's starting to really bother me.

All in favour of "you" and "your" instead of "ye" and "yer" from now on - say aye!


	4. Donald, Where's Your Trousers?

AN: This chapter is dedicated to Gilari, who must be some sort of muse. And for her, I will keep in the Accent Markers of Doom.

Set a couple of weeks after "Trinity", and deals directly with the fallout. I don't own this chapter title, it belongs to an amusing Scottish song.

* * *

Story 4 – Donald, Where's Your Trousers?

* * *

There wasn't a single day that no one drank coffee on Atlantis, and in each cup trouble seemed to start brewing almost immediately. Curling fingers around her particular mug of worries to warm her fingers, still thawing after a good half hour standing out on the balcony and counting to a hundred to calm the gnawing strain around her temples, Elizabeth Weir surveyed the people assembled in the briefing room.

Never in her life had four carbon based lifeforms caused her so much grief. Her free hand rested over a pile of paper, which was excessive enough to cause pain to any tree. Between her fingers were lines of text she'd rather not see again. Two reports Elizabeth counted on the outpost incident from John and Rodney, but there was something unspoken between the two members of the team not from Earth.

Two weeks ago, the Pegasus Galaxy had lost the better part of a solar system and a rift had opened up between all of them, strangely. Two weeks ago, Elizabeth had attempted to discern anything in long arguments with each member of Atlantis' foremost team about the past fortnight.

Now, she watched as Rodney deliberately seated himself at the end of the table, successfully putting Ronon between him and Colonel Sheppard. Teyla seemed happy enough standing up, one hand clasped over the elbow of her other arm.

"There are two things that concern me at the moment," Elizabeth began slowly. "Let's begin with the easiest, as I'm sure we'll need some more time with my second point. First of all, has anyone seen Carson in the past week or so?"

Rodney's head lifted somewhat and he frowned. "Oh clearly, I have nothing better to occupy myself with than to stalk Carson. What else could I possibly be doing?"

"I only ask because Nena has relayed her concern to me," Dr Weir pressed.

John leaned forward in his chair, musing, "Come to think of it, I haven't exactly seen our good king anywhere. I was checking out the infirmary a couple of days ago and I had to speak to Dr Biro instead."

"How did you escape Biro?" Ronon questioned.

"I was polite. Biro will leave you alone if you actually say goodbye before walking off."

"Ronon has been experiencing some difficulty with polite conversation," Teyla murmured, but not quietly enough to disguise a hard edge in her voice.

"He's not the only one – at least he doesn't shut a transporter door in my face!" Rodney added, glaring around the Satedan at John.

Elizabeth set down her mug with a bang. "Enough!"

Silence reigned. Somewhere in the corridor outside, a lone soul sneezed loudly. Further beyond that, barely discernible to anyone in the briefing room, was the heated exchange between Chuck and Peter about who exactly was supposed to be on gate duty that morning. And further still out of their range, completely out of human perception, Nena busily hunted through codes and algorithms for her mysteriously absent husband.

But none of this mattered right then.

"I shouldn't have to listen to this." Elizabeth's voice sliced through the woolly atmosphere of the room. "How can I be expected to have any confidence in your team at this point in time? This brings me to the other reason I called you here. I do not have the full picture, but it is clear to me that recent events may have...tested how you perceive each other for the moment. I fail to see how this has continued for so long. While it may seem to you that I have more important things to deal with, this is probably the one that causes me the most stress."

"It was not our intention," Teyla informed her.

"I am aware of that, but it doesn't solve this particular problem."

"There's nothing to solve," Ronon growled.

Sensing another outpouring of complaints and verbal jabs, Elizabeth stood up and held out a sheet of paper. Once their eyes had been drawn to it, she explained, "On this you will find a set of trust exercises. You have until sundown to complete them. This should not be too difficult but if it is, don't expect me to let you back into the field until you give me a good enough reason to."

Dr Elizabeth Weir nodded briskly to each of them and left at a dignified pace, chin high and hands pressed against each other in front of her. The moment the revolving doors shut behind her, she acknowledged the entity beside her. "You're sure they can't get out of the room?"

A slow, devious grin formed on Nena's face. "They can try…"

"Have you heard anything from Carson?" Elizabeth asked as both women continued towards the control room.

"This is not the first time my love has run away from me. He seems to think I have a bad temper, but I do not know why he holds this belief."

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and smiled wryly at her companion. "From what he told me about your courtship, I can't fault Carson for that."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," chortled the entity of Atlantis. "I just...wish he would talk to me. Humans can be so frustrating! And so thoughtless! It is hard enough to find babysitters among those in your expedition, without having to ask them to do it for so long!"

* * *

Carson Beckett had stopped hiding. Now he was trapped.

Since there were very few blind spots in the systems of Atlantis, he'd had to choose less than pleasing conditions to base himself in. At first, a lower section of the city that was prone to flooding had been his home – until he'd woken up one morning with his feet in a puddle of water and a sniffle creeping down his nostrils.

He loved Nena, he really did. But if the lass expected him to sit down easily to have this talk, then he was going to do the only thing he could.

Run. Hide. Repeat. A common mantra for any male who found themselves in the precarious position of offending a chair.

Finally, the damp and misery became a little too much. Tempted into the systems by the thought of decent bed rest and a good stiff drink, perhaps a make-up kiss (or more) with his wife, Carson had set out into the main corridors…

This had, naturally, been a mistake of extremely epic proportions.

He'd been abducted.

By his own daughter.

Entombed in a set of green and blue letters, fighting against the constricting laws of Lantean technology that randomly decided to change every few seconds, it had nearly driven Carson mad. It then took an extra forty-eight hours for him to realise that the reason none of it made any sense was because a wee bairn of no more than a few months months old had constructed his prison.

_Meredith, I'm not going to pretend I understand any of this, _he probed gently, _but can ye at least tell yer mum where I am?_

Of course she might not yet have a grasp of the English language, but the sensation that bounced back at him could only be described as an electronic raspberry. Good Lord, his own abilities had been hacked by a mere baby! His own daughter!

_Won't Uncle Rodney be pleased that yer just as clever and annoying as yer namesake_?

A light query touched his senses, shyly weaving warmth through his very being. Carson started at feeling the connection opening between them and then embraced it. Forgetting for a moment that he wasn't going anywhere fast, he flushed his love back through the link to Meredith, willing it to surround her with light and energetic scrambles of programming.

_I love ye. Always know that yer da loves ye._

_Da_, Meredith repeated back at him. _Da._

_Now then I don't suppose ye have a mind to letting me go?_

* * *

Tick-tick-tick-tick-_tick._

A bear-shaped shadow eclipsed Rodney, set to the soundtrack of a low rumble in Ronon's throat. The scientist rolled his eyes and slipped off his watch. Holding it up and making a show of it, Rodney then tucked it into his pocket. Ronon slanted back the other way. Meanwhile, Teyla had finally taken the chair beside John and was doing her best to remain quiet and composed, though her eyes narrowed with each glance at the men of her team.

Nodding at her briefly, Sheppard coughed and reached for the paper. It skipped past his fingertips and headed down towards Ronon. John leaned over just as the Satenda blew out a breath. A brief flutter heralded yet a little more distance down the table. Sheppard lunged from hsi seat and tackled the wayward piece of paper. Rodney snorted. John held up a hand at him for silence and slid back into his chair.

Pressing his lips together for a few seconds, John then announced, "The first exercise is called Mine Field."

"Does it say what the blast radius of the mines has to be?" Ronon asked, eyes flicking around the confines of the room, clearly wondering if the room was big enough for such a game.

"Comforting," Rodney muttered.

Casting an exasperated grimace away with a small shake of her head, Teyla took the paper from John and read it herself. "It does not appear that any mines are used. This exercise requires items to be placed on the floor and for a blindfolded person to be directed through by a partner's instructions."

"Sheppard, permission to get some mines from the armoury?"

"Denied, but be prepared for that order," John told him, and quickly smirked with the sudden forethought that Ronon might take him seriously. Not that John hadn't thought of it. Nooo. "Teyla, Rodney, any ideas?"

"Colonel, remove your shoes."

Okay, that seemed simple enough. And it even made a little sense – what else were they supposed to use? John also had the sneaking suspicion that the door wouldn't open if he asked it to, though he didn't blame Elizabeth for that. It probably helped to be in cahoots with the queen of Atlantis.

Swiveling sideways in his chair, the Colonel threw his feet up in the air and his shoes sailed across the table before smacking into the wall. This settled, he gestured towards his other team mates, then added, "Alright, if this is a trust exercise you're going to have to get used to calling me John. All of you. But don't catch me hearing it in the field."

"Very well…John," Teyla acknowledged and carefully unlaced her sneakers.

"Are you seriously considering playing along with this?" Rodney crossed his arms and didn't budge. He might have swung his feet for good measure, but such an action would be childish and he most certainly wasn't going to stoop to...okay, so he did swing. But only once and it was entirely justified. "You realise these time-wasting exercises were created by people who only managed to scrape into an arts degree and are designed to make people doubt each other?"

To Ronon, it was pretty simple. "We are following Dr Weir's orders."

"And believe me, Elizabeth can set her mind to things," John said feelingly. "I say we play along. For now."

"Agreed," said Teyla.

"What? You need my permission to make yourselves look stupid?"

Ronon planted a foot on the seat of Rodney's chair, giving the scientist only a second's notice to move his legs apart. Spluttering indignantly, the scientist didn't manage to form a retort before the Sateda shoved his chair away from the table. Ronon took each of Rodney's feet in a shovel-sized hand before ripping the footwear off.

Soon enough, eight shoes littered a patch of the floor. Taking in the sour pinch twisting Rodney's face, John thought that he'd rather dance through a real mine field than force his team mate to go along with it. But the scientist deserved a little talking down after the exploding solar system incident, trust or not.

"Who wants to go first?" John asked brightly. "I vote Rodney with Ronon."

"I thought the objective was to partner with someone I do not wish to hit the mines."

"You – tell me you heard that!" Rodney exclaimed at John.

* * *

Radek Zalenka was very pleased. He had been ever since he'd received word that Rodney would be held up somewhere for the day. An entire day! This meant he was free to do whatever he wished, so the first order of business was to break Rodney's carefully instated Cone of Silence in their department.

And now he finally had the right ambience with which to multitask, a sacred art that the men in his family had the good grace to inherit, given the correct ingredients. His young nephew could not only wreak destruction on every piece of furniture not nailed down, but also recite Hussite Era poetry and still have enough brain power to grin evilly. All that was required was a babysitter with minimal patience for his sister's son and the multitasking would begin.

Zelenka did not like to remember such incidents. He abandoned that turn of thought and focused on equations involving wormhole theory and programming for his self-styled chess game on the computer. Occasionally he scribbled a few notes on how best to regain his previous position as Atlantis' black market expert, basking in the background murmuring of unharried scientists.

Then his computer screen blipped.

He blinked slowly and prayed.

It blipped again. His carefully resolved coding exploded into nothingness, replaced by one word.

_HELP_

"Carson?" Radek ventured.

_Need help. Subroutine blocking...can't get…_

Nose touching the screen, Radek squinted over the rim of his glasses. He mouthed through his programming. Ah, so he had mistakenly stumbled somewhere in the Ancient database that even Rodney did not dare to flex his intellect. The screen wavered and flickered.

Zelenka threw aside his mouse, perched the keyboard on his lap and set to work.

* * *

In a show of good faith, possibly brought on by the reproving stare of Teyla, John had decided that it was his duty as CO to take the plunge. What he hadn't counted on was Rodney gleefully rising to the occasion and, having been passed a blindfold from Ronon (no one was very sure they wanted to ask where the Satedan had procured such a thing), the scientist wrapped it around John's eyes. So far, so good...except it took some arguing before each step could be taken around the shoes forming their danger zone.

"Rodney, it's not that I don't trust you...it's that I don't exactly trust your judgement," Colonel Sheppard shot from one corner of his mouth.

"Great, so why are you bothering to listen to me? What would you propose for getting through a mine field – oh right using the Force. Why didn't we think of that before?"

"Should have let them use real mines," Ronon said aside to Teyla.

She didn't exactly voice a disagreement.

John blew out a loud breath. "I can still hear what you're all saying, you know. Rodney, look, I can forgive you for blowing up a solar system. What I can't forgive is you always assuming you're right and then not trusting my judgement enough when it concerns your own damn safety."

"I said I was sorry," Rodney grumbled. "Two steps right to leave the mine field, or you're free to go right on not trusting my mostly reliable judgement, if it does anything for your Kirk-sized ego."

Trying not to envision scrubbing any smug look off his team mate's face with the floor, John began his last two steps to freedom. One step...deep breath...and then he smacked bodily into something blocking his path.

"Uh, hullo everyone. I don't suppose any of ye are willing to give me some clothes?"

John skidded back in shock and his feet caught on a 'mine'. Flung over onto his back, he pulled hard at the blindfold until it slipped over his hair, mussing it in a way that wasn't entirely disagreeable. Standing over him, holding out a hand and completely starkers was Carson Beckett, king of Atlantis.

"Did I miss something?" Sheppard said flatly.

"Naked," was Rodney's projection.

Carson gripped John's wrist and helped the Colonel to his feet. John kept a good distance away following this, though he did grin openly at the CMO's predicament. Teyla's hands ghosted over John's shoulders, tugging off his jacket and offering it to the new arrival. Nodding in thanks to her as he wrapped it around his waist, Carson said, "I think I'm the one who's missing something, donnae ye think?"

"Carson, you're...naked."

"Well yes, I realise this, Rodney," the doctor responded patiently. "My wee lass wasnae exactly in a good mood."

John chuckled. "Nena finally found you, huh?"

"No, it was Meredith. She trapped me."

"What'd she do that for?" Ronon asked, striding over to pick up his boots.

"I think because I abandoned Nena and so Meredith was tryin' ta teach me a lesson."

"I'd say she's not wrong there, doc," John pointed out. "Nena told me about the times you used to run from her. You're lucky she didn't freeze up the city like last time."

Rodney nodded quickly, finally able to stop staring at his friend. "Right yes, frozen city bad - that's not going to happen again is it? I fell through the ice once and it's not an experience I care to - "

"Occupational hazard of dating a chair, I'm afraid," Carson said, then indicated the mess on the floor. "What nonsense are ye getting up to?"

Bending down to scoop up her own shoes, Teyla set a strained smile on her face. Once her feet were again clad, she explained, "Elizabeth wished us to partake in trust exercises."

"Good Lord, did it really get this bad?"

"We...we were working on it," John said defensively. "Weren't we, Rodney?"

Ronon looked between John and the scientist, then shrugged. "There are worse things than destroying a solar system."

"Oh I'm sure you can think of some!" Rodney snapped.

Ignoring the rest of the diatribe forming between the other men, Carson turned to the Athosian and rested his hand on her arm, leading her towards the table. He asked guardedly, "Teyla, love, have they been like this all day?"

"Unfortunately yes..."

"Well ye know what we need ta do then?"

"Get Rodney smashed!" shouted John.

"Smashing McKay, when do we start?" Ronon wanted to know.

Rodney snorted. "Oh ha-hah. Wait...did you mean that as a joke or are you just mocking me? He's mocking me!"

Pressing the side of her hand against her face, Teyla closed her eyes briefly. After the lines crossing her forehead faded, she said, "I believe I should excuse myself. There are things I must attend to on the mainland and I...have no wish to lose my senses to drink. It does the worst to good men."

"I'm not going to kill anyone, unless they try to kill me first," Ronon assured her.

"I am glad to hear that."

"You still mad?"

"Considerably less so. The trust...may take longer."

Ronon reached back to scratch at his scalp, unconcerned. "I can live with that."

"You need someone to fly you over, Teyla," John supplied.

"I suspected you would make such a suggestion."

"And…?"

"Very well, John. You may lead."

* * *

No one batted an eyelid when five people exited the briefing room instead of four. The lunch break on Atlantis was a sacred hour, so it was down to very few to notice how the escapees (one wearing barely a stitch of clothing) skirted the corridors, forging an unhurried path towards the 'Jumper bay. One pitstop was allowed on the way – just long enough for Carson Beckett to reveal his latest stash of beer in plain brown boxes – and a spare set of clothes.

"For medicinal purposes only, yes?" the doctor said, eyes wide and innocent.

"I'm surprised Nena hasn't done away with this," John reflected. "We all know what happened last time."

Carson's cheeks tightened, but no dimples appeared. "Oh God, Nena. She must know I'm here. What do I tell her?"

Ronon loomed in the door way, waving them out into the corridor. His advice was, "Depends which will hurt more – telling the truth right now or staying off the radar a little longer."

"I would not suggest that you come with us," Teyla said.

This sounded perfectly logical to Carson's ear, but by the time it reached his brain the translation had been lost somewhat. His solution was to simply escort them to the 'Jumper. Then leave. Aye, that would do it.

"Dr Weir is twenty metres that way," Ronon informed them, pointing back over his shoulder.

"Shit," John muttered. "Leg it!"

Just as he started forward, his footfall landed hard on the untied laces of Rodney's shoes. The scientist pitched forward and only just managed to throw his hands out in front of him. Grabbing the back of Rodney's shirt, Sheppard hauled his team mate halfway up and almost dragged him down the floor. The soles of Rodney's sneakers squealed like a banshee stepping on a cat.

"Hopeless, aren't this lot?" Carson sighed and exchanged an anxious look with Teyla. Without much encouragement, they jogged after the other miscreants, both trying to balance gravity with boxes that felt as heavy as stone.

* * *

Despite the inability for anyone else to find the spectacle worth noting, it failed to be ignored by the city's expedition leader. Elizabeth opened her mouth and watched them leave, holding out an empty hand, palm up, ready to gesture them back towards her. She closed her fingers into a fist and rapped it against her PDA absently before asking herself out loud, "Should I be worried?"

A cascade of light and white noise burst into being beside her. Nena's green eyes were flaming with sharpening pixels that were the last part of her to complete in the transfer. The entity of Atlantis immediately surged forward and Elizabeth hurried to keep pace with her. Clearly, there was more than a simple greeting on Nena's mind.

"My husband has some explaining to do," Nena said.

Elizabeth snagged her elbow with a well chosen grip, glad that Nena had become corporeal for the encounter. "No wait...they're up to something."

"But Carson – "

"Nena, while I don't approve of the way my CMO has treated you the past week," Weir began gently, "this is exactly the sort of improvement I was hoping for."

"I do not intend to yell at him, if that's what you think, Elizabeth. I do worry about him...I am not as impatient as I was. And I do understand you humans a little more than I did. I trust Carson. He knows that, I just wish he would feel it."

Wavering in the door way that had seen the escapees barely a few minutes ago, Nena wrung her shoulders with an intense expression on her face. Not unused to this look – and having witnessed it on Carson over many months, even though not realising what it meant it at the time – Elizabeth waited, palming her PDA between her hands.

"They are taking liberal amounts of alcohol," Nena said at last, bottom lip disappearing under her teeth.

"...should I ask the exact amount?"

"Perhaps not."

"You don't think they'll take a 'Jumper do you?"

Nena's silence was answer enough. Elizabeth slipped the PDA into her jacket's pocket. After a moment, she said, "Is there anything you can do…?"

* * *

"I thought you said this was the quickest way to the 'Jumper bay," John accused.

Standing astride the ledge set into the side of the hanger, he appeared to be the master of all he surveyed. Except that a distinct lack of steps or otherwise helpful technology presented itself, and the nearest Puddlejumper platform was a long walk through the air away. Carson smiled helplessly, set down the beer just inside the access passage that opened into the hanger and shimmered from his spot on the platform down to the floor three metres below.

Ronon strode up to the edge, sighted the distance with one eye closed and jumped.

After some negotiation, the boxes of alcohol followed, cushioned by the sturdy catch of a hardened warrior. John and Teyla weren't as swift in their descent but neither had any difficulty, which left Rodney McKay. For the record, he was never afraid of heights, it was just the landing thing he had a problem with.

"C'mon, Rodney," John called up. "I'll even get Ronon to catch you if it'll make you feel better."

"That's supposed to make me feel better!"

"I guess you'll just have to trust my judgement."

Rodney scowled.

"If you take any longer," Teyla told him, "I will find a way up there to push you myself. Then I would not be here to persuade Ronon to catch you."

Carson turned his back to hide his laugh, scooping up a box and moving it a few steps to occupy himself. Rodney continued to complain. "Oh right, and do how much damage to my spine in the process? I'm not exactly new to being dropped on my back and no one can know how many hairline fractures I might already have from that."

"Fine! Is this what you want to hear?" John hesitated. "I forgive you, and I trust you Rodney. So now I'm asking you to just trust us for a few seconds."

Rodney fought the deep suspicion that he was going to regret this. He set one foot into midair, pondered the next step, and dropped. Thankfully, he didn't have to spend too long in Ronon's arms.

It took only a a minute for them all to reach a chosen 'Jumper and then significantly less than that to pry open cases of not beer, but assorted bits of junk and rock. The explanation for this serious lack of medicinal supplies was to be blamed, rightly so, on an enterprising soul who had discovered the beer and snatched it away to make a tidy profit. Zelenka would have been very upset had he known about this, for he was not the one who benefited from such a scheme.

This discovery, however, did no real harm to the plans of the five humans. Upon attempting to start the 'Jumper, and deciding that the city was conspiring against them (Carson thought it best not to alert the sentience of Atlantis to his precise location), they soon managed to clamber up onto the highest parked 'Jumper.

Ronon Dex happened to reveal a tanned hip flask from his belt and passed it around, though a few drops had barely passed John's lips before the Colonel started coughing. Rodney declined, and Teyla inhaled a fair bit before leaving the rest for Carson who rather thought that a good deal of money could be made from whatever moonshine Satedans chose to carry.

"What's in that stuff?" demanded John.

Ronon shifted between two ridges on top of the 'Jumper to make himself more comfortable, but did not let them in on that secret. His indifferent gaze was already set on the high ceiling and the roomy tunnel that led further up to the outside. "Is that the way out?"

All stared up at the closed roof door of the hanger.

Carson threw a careless hand upwards and it opened.

Then John asked the not-so-obvious. "Why do you think the Ancients put a sunroof in here?"

"Sunroof?" Rodney repeated disbelievingly. "What are you - oh, right. The roof doors. How do you propose the 'Jumpers leave the city? Beam out?"

"Ancestors should have built a door into the outside walls," Ronon said.

A brief moment's consideration, then Rodney blinked. "Huh. He's right. Why didn't they do that?"

"I'm not sure that would suit the design," Teyla offered. "The Ancestors' architecture shows a preference for symmetry."

John slung his arms behind his head for a pillow and stared for a while. Sudden inspiration spurred his next few words. "Hey, Carson, can't you and Nena change things around a little? Like a door in the side?"

"It's not as simple as tha', John. We can change a few wee details to the structure, but...actually I have no idea, I've never tried."

"What better time than now?" John beamed.

Rodney performed a flourish that mimicked Carson's previous gesture, letting gravity pull his hand back down to a muffled landing on his stomach. He muttered, "You can't just wave your magic wand and create a matter out of nothing."

Carson scrunched up his face.

"Are you able to do it?" Teyla prompted.

The king of Atlantis stretched his neck back to run his eyes over the wall behind them, though his face relaxed. "No, not a thing."

"That's because there are better things to use the ZPM's energy on!" someone exclaimed nearby.

John coughed uncomfortably. "Who said that?"

Appearing to hover in the air beside the Puddlejumper was Nena Beckett, legs crossed and arms resting over her knees. Oh, so sprung. Ronon was the first to react, shuffling over to make room for her on the roof. Nena floated down beside him. Her lips pursed before each corner rose to accommodate a wide smile. "Aren't you sweet! Thank you. They say such things about you, you know. Big, tough, dangerous, slightly spunky."

"I'm starting to see why Beckett likes chairs," Ronon said, scanning her form with languid appreciation.

Two finely programmed eyebrows lifted. Nena's smile grew impish.

"Excuse me, love?" Carson said indignantly. "If yer having any second thoughts about jus' which man ye prefer…"

"Breathe, my husband. I'm not mad at you. A little hurt, maybe. But we are going to talk, right now."

An excuse failed to materalise. Carson sat up and reached over to rest his hand over Nena's, slipping his fingers through hers. He kept his hand still, though his heart shivered inside his chest. She always made him feel anxious, though sometimes not in a bad way. God, they'd been married twice in a fashion, had a child together - yet he wasn't sure how to tell her his deepest fears.

Nena lifted his hand with hers, kissing the heel of his palm. Her eyes never left his. She deserved to know.

"I don't think any of ye will miss me if I suddenly disappear," Carson said, looking around at his friends.

Various forms of farewell were delivered, then the walls dissolved into fluttering fragments that rearranged into Carson's quarters. Startled to find their location not in virtu-Atlantis, and even relieved, Carson dropped to his bed and pulled Nena into his lap. She settled around to lean her head against his shoulder.

"Before ye say anything," Carson began quickly, "I need to tell ye I'm so sorry, my dear. I shouldnae have left ye, but it was also not my intention to be abducted by our daughter. She is learning, oh, a little fast for my liking."

Nena showed no surprise about the Meredith situation. Keeping silent, she waited.

"Alrigh' love, I'll get to the point…am I…am I human?"

She frowned against his neck. "But you know the answer to that."

"Do I, love? I know that a Wraith cannae feed on me, but a Replicator can invade my body. Will I die? Can I die?"

Nena leaned back and her mouth bunched to one side as she thought. Nodding, she leaped out of his grasp and hunted through the room. Finding the pocket knife that John Sheppard had given her husband as an impromptu gift of protection, she tugged Carson's hand out and drew a tiny slice of blood across the tip of his index finger.

"See! Blood." She kissed the cut for a moment. "You're not one-hundred-percent invincible and neither am I. You just hurt in a different way. And you have this DNA to materialise, too, don't forget that."

"And if I die…?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. Please don't try that, Carson. It would make everyone all very miserable."

The twinkle in her eye drew out his smile. "Oh? Ye especially?"

"I could be persuaded…"

Nena leaned over to kiss him, but before their lips could meet, virtu-Atlantis swirled around them. Both turned to regard Meredith in her cot, her blue eyes big and bright.

"Ye left her here alone?"

"No...perhaps she was bored in the care of Evan."

Carson groaned. "We really have ta sort her out."

"Let her play. She'll never learn to change things in the city if she never tries."

"Oh God, don't let Elizabeth know…"

* * *

Two days later, a wad of paper skimmed across Doctor Weir's desk and stopped just short of slipping onto the floor. Elizabeth glanced up at John questioningly.

"You won't be having any problem putting us back on active duty," he said. "This is the final draft of my report on the last mission."

"What's brought this on?"

"Rodney wasn't the only one who made a mistake. He didn't stay behind; he trusted me enough to leave, and that's good enough for me. Buuut...don't tell him I said that."

Once he'd left, Elizabeth spun her chair around and let her eyes roam into the glare bouncing off the water she could see through the windows of the gate room below. Like a breath she'd held for too long, the stress left her chest.

The next breath she took held the scent of the ocean.

* * *

AN2: Hopefully more to come soon. :) Next story will be a lot more fun. I might have to fix up some glaring continuity errors in the past 3 chapters first though... hazard of not having a beta insane enough to sit through this!

Anyway, if you are liking this fic, then you'll probably like my other fic _Sploosh_. While it's not in the Checkett universe, it's a similar sort of romp.


	5. A Lousy Can of Raid Pt 1

AN: This is set after "Conversion". I had to break this into two chapters because it was getting insanely long. I'm sorry I didn't think to do this earlier, especially with the last chapter.

* * *

Story 5 - A Lousy Can of Raid (Part 1)

* * *

Teyla Emmagan waited until her old friend had taken several steps out of the Puddlejumper before moving forward, placing her hands at his shoulders. Halling tipped his head to hers and they paused there comfortably, before drawing back to exchange warm smiles.

"It has been too long, Halling," she said.

"Hopefully you will not have forgotten everything about me in the meantime, or our people."

Teyla tipped her head to the side, though did not shake it completely. "I could not ask for a better reminder than one who is as wise a leader as myself."

"I brought Jinto and Wex with me," Halling said, waving back behind him. "I hope that is all right with your Doctor Weir."

"I...don't see a problem, though it would be best they do not attend the meeting."

Halling's smile disappeared into a bland expression just as his son and Wex came in front of him, but Teyla noted the shining amusement in his eyes. Her friend explained without a hint of anything more than detachment, "Jinto wished to see the city again before his coming of age. He also wanted to bring a present for Colonel Sheppard."

Peering into a small cloth bag as Jinto loosened the leather drawstring, Teyla nodded slowly and likewise kept her cheeks tightened against the promise of her returning smile. "I see. That is very thoughtful and very useful - Colonel Sheppard will be...very pleased. Shall I take you to him in the infirmary or…"

"I remember where everything is, I think," Jinto interjected. "And anyway, Wex can help me. He's still just a kid though and I'll be an adult in one season - "

"One whole season, Jinto! Tana is going to be an adult next week."

"And Tana is someone special?" Teyla asked aside to her friend.

Halling paused to flash her the barest of smiles and lowered his voice while the boys began running out of the 'Jumper bay. "I would prefer to let fate take its course, if it will. If not...there are many others with more tolerance for my son's ways."

* * *

John Sheppard itched to start climbing the walls of the infirmary. He told himself that this was only a typical response to being cooped up for several days, and didn't dare think that it might be some sort of residue. Leaning back on the bed, he lifted his arms and mimed rocket noises as he moved his fingers over the wide ceiling.

"How are ye feeling today, John?" inquired the all-too-familiar brogue of Carson Beckett.

John dropped his hands immediately and stuffed them into his pockets, swinging upright so quickly he nearly kicked the CMO. He rolled back his shoulders slowly, affecting a shrug after a few seconds then rested one of his hands on the side of the bed. He answered around a bored yawn, "Fine. Good as new."

Carson set down his clipboard on the bed beside his patient and smiled. "I take it ye haven't had any urge to spin any webs of late?"

"Carson, I'm not going to point fingers," John told him. "But the least you could do is stop kidding around. I get enough of it from my men."

"I'm sorry, lad. It wasn't my intention to - "

A long-suffering sigh later, John slid off the bed to stand on his two feet. "Yeah, I get it. You didn't mean for me to get blue and scaly. But next time can you make sure that the itchy rash that I got afterwards really goes away?"

"I thought ye said ye were fine," Carson mused.

"I am! I am, mostly. The last part of me to turn pink was kind of...personal, if you know what I mean. And it still - itches just a little."

John squirmed when, at his words, the CMO's gaze switched from mildly puzzled to knowingly amused. The maddening smile tweaking Beckett's lips was due north by comparison to John's little problem. Carson's sage advice was delivered calmly. "Well why don't ye stop scratching? It's not likely to look decent in public."

"Carson!"

The doctor chuckled. "Have ye tried not thinking about it?"

"I've been having a little trouble with that," Sheppard admitted, rather quietly when he noticed a pair of nurses entering the infirmary.

"So have the mice."

John's face darkened. "What - you didn't say anything about mice!"

"Alright, John, yer clear to go," Carson announced without meeting his eyes. "And donae worry, the mice all turned out fine. Which is what ye'll be if ye stop scratching. Ye might go blind."

"Stop scratching what?" the Colonel asked indifferently, watching the nurses out of the corner of his eyes. He hoped they hadn't heard any of that.

Carson patted him on the arm, using the motion to shove his friend towards the door. The king of Atlantis kept his tone light, ignoring the indignant scowl hiding beneath John's smirk. "I have to see Heightmeyer with Nena - God help us. Oh! Hullo Jinto, hullo Wex. I'll see ye later perhaps?"

"Carson, don't you dare," John muttered.

Already the two boys were advancing right to them, somehow magnetised to the exact point where they weren't wanted.

"Donae do anything I wouldn't, now would ye?" Carson placated with a grin, before he became digitised particles.

John turned, grumbled towards the window, and spun back around. By the time he was facing the two young Athosians, a broad grin painted his features and his arms were comfortably at his sides. Yep, casual. Nothing better to do. Nothing worse to do either…

"Is he still seeing that chair?" Jinto wanted to know. John noted that his voice was several pitches deeper than last time they'd met.

"Do you still have chocolate stuff?" Wex latched on.

Slapping his back pants pocket and locating the fun-size Snickers bar, John couldn't help but mentally sing praises to Rodney always requiring a little pick-me-up whenever the Colonel visited the labs. Most people assumed that Dr Meredith Rodney McKay, as a certified geek, would naturally find an arch-nemesis in the peanut. Not so, but the myth did add to the mystique. Rodney didn't refer to it as that, of course. His wording was something along the lines of "the element of surprise".

Tearing the chocolate bar in two, John tossed each piece to the boys, noting that Jinto seemed to have sprouted almost up to his shoulder-line. The kid had no right to be getting so damn tall...except he probably wasn't much of a kid anymore. The Pegasus Galaxy wasn't exactly the 'burbs. John said coolly, "Yeah, Dr Beckett made an honest woman out of the chair. Now was it a quick tour you wanted, or a story - I've got this great story about Rodney destroying - "

"Major Sheppard, I got you something!" Wex cried abruptly, holding out a dirty bundle.

"We got it, we both did," corrected Jinto, snatching the bag. "And his name is Colonel now, _remember_?"

Wex looked up at John, puzzled. "Why did you change it?"

Jinto had the answer for this one. "The same reason I'm going to change my name once I'm a man like Colonel Sheppard."

"What's that?" Wex asked.

Jinto affected a disturbingly familiar smirk. "Because I can. Colonel Sheppard, here's your present, Teyla said you'd like it."

Gingerly holding it up with his thumb and forefinger, John flicked his eyes between the two of them. They weren't looking at him, rather glaring at each other. In the second his attention had been taken up with the bag, someone must have kicked the other. Judging by the faint redness spilling over Jinto's cheeks, the younger boy must have got the drop on him. John pulled open the bag and stared.

"She didn't say that, she said - " Wex began arguing.

John cleared his throat. "I'm betting she said it was thoughtful."

"Yes that's it! Do you like it?" Jinto asked enthusiastically.

Digging his fingers into the rock salt and pulling it tight into a grainy fist, John welcomed the sting against his palm. He had the sudden forbidding foresight that the story of his mutation into a bug-man had spread faster than Rodney could swallow half a full-sized Snickers bar. He supposed it should have been sweet...the kids remembering that salt really pissed off Iratus bugs. But the chafing reminder of his nether regions soured his mood again.

"Just what else has Teyla been telling you?" John demanded.

* * *

"No, absolutely not. I see Rodney has not volunteered and, unlike our head of department, I have many duties with which to busy myself. No, _ne_. This is my final answer. And children, children are smelly. Very smelly and they cry a lot."

Radek Zelenka, backed into a corner and waving a cup of coffee and his PDA in front of him, was in a bit of trouble. He liked to think of himself as more agreeable than a certain astrophysicist, but he also thought he held a bit more logic in his brain than most human specimens. Adding Meredith Beckett into today's equation was going to complicate things and remove any proper result after the equals sign.

On the other hand, he liked being able to feel all of his extremities.

Nena slowly paced closer to his safe corner, humming softly to Meredith as she adjusted the weight of her child around her hip. She smiled down briefly before transferring this look to Zelenka, who didn't buy it for a moment.

"It is only for an hour," Nena told him. "I know you are very busy. But I am busy too, and if I don't impress this Dr Heightmeyer…I do not know what the IOA will do."

"What is this about?" Radek asked, springing from his crouch against the wall.

Fear flickered over Nena's face. "The IOA requested a short evaluation on Carson's mental stability and they want to know if I'm a threat! Like I would harm any of you!"

Zelenka warily eyed her over the rim of his glasses. "Like you would not harm Dr Biro, yes?"

"That's totally different."

"...actually yes, I would agree. She is terrifying."

"So please just look after Meredith for a little bit?"

"Why me? Why not Bates or Lorne or, ah, anyone but me?"

"Because you have that chess program," Nena reminded him. "Which is very brilliant, for a human."

"Ah."

"You are the only one who can undo Meredith's playing."

Radek held out his arms and squeezed his eyes shut. When he heard laughter, he popped open one eye and smiled sheepishly. Nena gently passed over her daughter, adjusting the scientist's limbs until she was satisfied.

"Oof, she must be eating as much as Rodney," muttered Zelenka.

Nena raised an eyebrow, then shrugged - much to Radek's relief. Waving her hands, she nodded happily as the wall reshaped to form a crib. The last finishing touch was an Athosian toy Teyla had gifted - a petrified flower that sealed tight seeds within it to act as a rattle. A smiling Wraith face decorated it, which Radek thought was rather morbid, but didn't dare say so.

"Meredith, behave!" Nena dropped a quick kiss on the top of her daughter's growing tufts of hair. "You will make your Da very worried!"

Radek shifted his charge a bit so he could look down into her face. "Ha! Should I not be the one worried?"

Meredith blinked her blue eyes in response.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir could not have imagined the agony that either John or Radek were experiencing right that moment, otherwise she would not have wished to trade places when Sgt. Donald Bates gatecrashed her meeting with Halling and Teyla. Already there had been the customary offer of chairs, and the gentle knock-back that signalled some sort of dissatisfaction. As a result, the three of them stood between the chairs in Elizabeth's office, while the expedition leader entertained thoughts of leaning back onto her desk for some comfort.

"I was not informed of this...man's arrival," Bates stated, filling the door way with muscle and the added definition of a BDU. "Everything relating to the security of Atlantis needs to be run by me first."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and did not scream. However, she allowed herself to fall into the temptation of keeping upright against the desk, fingernails shuddering against the fine surface of the table. Bates had mellowed enough not to run onto the scene every time something happened, and even shared a meal or two with Teyla in the mess, but when it came to what he perceived as outside threats...ignorance was usually the best policy that Elizabeth kept for him.

Teyla moved to bodily shield her friend, but Halling touched her arm. She let him pass to meet Bates at the door, where he stood sideways, addressing all in the room. "This is not acceptable, Dr Weir. We must be allowed to access the ancestral ring without having to speak to so many of your people first. It is our right to visit our friends."

"I'm not saying you can't," Bates shot back. "We just need to make sure you're keeping it clean."

"Sergeant, are you inferring - " Teyla began.

A black-clad blur barrelled into the room before slamming to a stop in front of the desk. Rodney McKay lifted his eyes up from his e-notebook and took in the scene around him. Seemingly finding nothing out of place, he posed his question to Elizabeth. "Am I interrupting the pow-wow?"

"Rodney!" She blew out a breath of relief. "Of course not. Is there something wrong?" _Please stay. Please stay._

Rodney hmmed, face vacant while he retrieved the relevant data. Then he burst into his usual dialogue. "I had a few ideas - came to me while I was on my way to my lab - and since Carson isn't likely to escape Heightmeyer soon, I thought I would tell you what I'm going to do, and Carson will probably do it - with your permission of course."

Bates glowered. Halling shifted on his feet.

"I think I will get some coffee for everyone," Teyla murmured and glided out of the room before Elizabeth could stop her.

Rodney stared around at everyone. "What, is it spaghetti day in the mess? Have you ever noticed how on spaghetti day there always seems to be a distinct lack of focus in the labs, and it's probably to do with the carbohydrates sending them all to sleep. I'm right, aren't I? It is spaghetti day."

"No, Rodney…" Elizabeth didn't bother to explain.

Bates stepped forward and waved elaborately at the remaining Athosian. "You can take a seat."

"After you, Sergeant Bates," Halling responded dryly.

* * *

Neutral grey seats that comfortably faced each other in front of a wide window did much to extend the feeling of space in Doctor Kate Heightmeyer's office. She did not consider it an office – it was the base of many exercises and layers to build upon with those who came to her. The door was never locked and all were welcome, though some had to be given more than a push into the room. Discretion was key, and the windows faced away from most of the city, so any pensive gaze directed out onto the ocean met only endless horizons.

Standing by the door, Kate crossed her arms loosely, hands curled around her elbows. Unable to see her watch, but knowing that her latest visitors were already late, did not affect any of her calm and friendly appearance. A spike of apprehension dove from her sternum to gut, but a deep breath expelled it.

Finally, the door slid open.

"Are we late?" asked the woman standing in the corridor.

Kate smiled. "Of course not. Please, come in."

"Don't lie to me, Dr Heightmeyer. We are late."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that important to - "

"_Nena_," Carson Beckett cautioned in a low voice, creeping into the room and pulling his wife with him.

Sometimes the person entering Kate's office would pause for a moment to take in the water or the weather and make some sort of comment. Carson did no such thing, settling down into one of the armless chairs with ease. He patted his knees briefly, until he noticed that Nena had not followed him all the way over. Carson's cheeks dented slightly, though his lips did not curve to match the dimples forming. His eyes flicked down to the floor.

Nena moved to stand impassively behind him. Her expression was as blank as a powered down computer screen. Undaunted, Kate let this pass, and sat opposite the couple.

"I'm Kate," she introduced herself. "I've had quite a bit of experience with this sort of thing, but I also specialise in couple's counselling, if you have need of it."

A bar of light swiped from head to toe of Nena. Heightmeyer drew in a breath but blew it out just as quickly to cover her discomfit. Carson fiddled with the zipper on his jacket.

"Alright, let's start with you, Nena," Kate continued lightly. "Tell me about yourself."

Nena glared. "I am in control of all of Atlantis' systems and could sink it if I wished to. And you don't want to make me do that. Don't pretend this means anything to you, Dr Heightmeyer. The IOA's message to you was clear. I read it myself."

"Love, ye donae make this easy..." Carson muttered.

"Carson, you remember what she tried to do to you!"

"To be fair, the lass thought I was crazy," the doctor pointed out, smiling genuinely. "No offence to ye, Dr Heightmeyer, but ye were completely wrong. As ye can see, Nena is sentient and capable of appearing as ye see her now. There is a fair amount of corporeality she is capable of."

"And you met her through the chair, is that right?"

"Aye but - it's..." Carson paused, then blurted, "It's not like it sounds!"

"Oh, isn't it, Carsie-buns?" Nena asked sharply.

"Love, ye know what I mean. Yer more than a chair to me, and ye have been for some time now. I married ye, didn't I?"

"You _forgot_ that you married me!"

"Well now, I didn't plan on my memories getting wee bit hazy after we shared and ye explained that to me - "

Kate held up both hands and made an indistinct sound in her throat that nonetheless drew their attention. "Um, if I might ask, what happened when you married?"

"The connection altered my life signature," Carson explained softly. "I lost a few days of my memory and started to have some control of the city's systems."

"Did this upset you, Nena?"

Nena's eyes flashed through streams of coding before settling back into a plain green. "Dr Weir said you knew how to read things, but you are just like every other human! This has nothing to do with you, or your Stargate Command. Or the IOA – you can tell them that! I am this city and you are nothing but visitors, here at my grace."

"So where do I fit into this, my dear?" Carson snorted.

"Oh I don't know, maybe you should figure out what this sounds like! I can still fry your brain!"

Kate clenched her fingers in her lap. Her teeth scraped together as she tried to keep smiling. Only fifty-four minutes to go...

* * *

TBC


	6. A Lousy Can of Raid Pt 2

Disclaimer: I don't own _SGA_, _Lost in Space_ ('98) or _WarGames_...I just think about them a lot!

AN: In _So I Married A Chair_, I made the two parts of "A Less-Than-Awesome Time" into two different "stories". I have a new numbering system in mind, but for continuity's sake only for now, I will do as I did before.

To Gilari, who brightens my day immensely, I confess I feel out of my depth with Meredith. I will see what I can do, as there's only 2 or so chapters left in this (3 if I go overboard with the next one, which I probably will - esp. if I add in a few things).

* * *

Story 6 - A Lousy Can of Raid (Part 2)

* * *

At first, Zelenka did not mind the company. Seated at his laptop, keeping the screen as a shield in front of him, he barely had to peek over the edge at the cot. Nodding absently and forgetting altogether of this particular duty, he soon hunched over and began flicking his fingers over the keys.

Then he looked back over.

Meredith was gone.

Swearing loudly in his native tongue, Radek swung his chair so hard on its wheels that it nearly sent him flying. He caught the edge of the lab bench to slow himself down. A few commands at the Ancient screen there revealed that his chess program was still running...all pieces lined up and accounted for. White and black, all with their little pawns.

As he watched, the screen shivered and went dark. A line of blue English text filtered across the screen in DOS style.

**shall we play a game?**

A cold lump formed at the back of his throat and Zelenka swallowed it.

"As long as we are not playing Global Thermonuclear War," he told the screen.

The chess board reappeared, and one white pawn glided two spaces forward. Shrugging, Radek pulled out the hooked-up keyboard and typed in a command for an opposing pawn to march out to meet hers in battle.

What sounded like a child's giggle petered through the sound system of the lab.

Zelenka bravely ignored it.

* * *

By the time Rodney McKay had finished outlining the finer details of some sort of plan to increase ZPM efficiency, which he was entirely sure that Nena would never have thought of, and even added in a few ideas of where to find more ZPMs, the atmosphere of Elizabeth Weir's office resembled a fifth grade classroom.

Lulled into an agreeable stupor, Halling and Bates had been discreetly inching their chairs towards the door. Elizabeth blinked when Rodney's voice stopped, noticing that his expectant expression was aimed at her. Looking down and finding that she had folded several aeroplanes out of someone's report, she flattened the offending items and shoved them onto the desk behind her.

"I'm sure that Nena would have considered rerouting the secondary conduits, Rodney," she started slowly, as the room came back into focus. "But I think she would have realised that we need showers once in a while. Those are on the secondary loop, aren't they?"

"Yes, but in case the Wraith decide to find and attack us yet again - which is a high possibility given that oh we're still _alive_ - "

"I see your point. Gentlemen!" Elizabeth let that last word fly at Bates and Halling, who had made it closer to the door than she'd have thought possible. "What do you think? Showers or a greater chance of a shield?"

"With respect, m'am, isn't that your decision?" Bates asked.

"I agree," Halling said. "We cannot make that decision."

Elizabeth nodded. "The final word is mine, yes. But I'm glad I've found something you can both agree on!"

The identical slack jaws and horrified expressions made it all worth it. Teyla broke the moment by bringing in some coffee, which Rodney pounced on. While the others were busy with this, Elizabeth walked around to sit in her chair and rest her chin in her hand. She smiled when Bates gruffly offered to refill Halling's mug. Some victories...were won in small rooms with only words for weapons.

"Dr Weir," the headset on her desk warbled.

Elizabeth set it back on her ear. "Yes, John?"

"Do you think Halling would mind if I took the kids back early? And can you page Ronon to the 'Jumper bay? I'm going to need him as...back up."

* * *

"Check mate?"

Zelenka frowned closely at the screen. And so it was. He'd just lost a game of chess to a baby! Rodney would never let him hear the end of it. Rodney didn't have to know...so this was okay. But only just.

"Alright, you win," he conceded. "Now can you reappear huh?"

The computer blatted at him loudly. Radek stretched his arms, rolled his wrists and extended his fingers over the keys. His glasses slipped down his nose as he struggled to combat the tricky turns that Meredith was programming into his path. He grinned maniacally as he found a gap and struck - and nearly jumped out of his chair when she abruptly appeared, sitting up in his lap.

Despite himself, Zelenka couldn't look away from such a sweet smile. He tickled her feet for a some time, to her delight, until she suddenly starting trying to escape his lap.

Shaky lines of letters and other odd symbols flashed over the screen in front of him, until the words became clear.

"You know who it is?" Radek breathed, daring to believe that the identity of his nemesis was a few clicks away.

Meredith beamed and a chessboard dashed across the screen.

* * *

Kate thought that some improvement had presented itself. Nena was finally sitting beside her husband, having been coaxed by his gentle lilt and an assurance that he understood her completely. Kate doubted that, and worried for the safety of not only herself but every other person in the city right that moment. The slight ominous rumble through the floor when Nena glared at her might have contributed to that feeling.

"The Ancients would have me deprogrammed the moment they found me with Carson," Nena explained flatly. "They would destroy both my husband and my child."

"This still worries you?" Kate prompted carefully. "The Ancients are gone."

Nena glanced sideways to her husband and wondered, "I did not think it possible to love a human."

"Is it possible?"

"How can you ask that of me?" Nena demanded. "I love Carson! He doesn't care if I look like this, or if he has to interface with the chair. In fact, I think he likes the sensations in the chair better."

Carson's face took on a red tinge. "Uh, Nena, do ye think..."

"You look embarrassed, Carson," Kate noted.

"See, this is the problem! He is happy enough to say he is married to me, but when it comes to sex, he refuses to accept me!"

The CMO of Atlantis did his very best to be absorbed into the seat beneath him without actually resorting to his powers. Nena shifted a couple of inches away from him and spitted her best evil frown of doom across the distance, though the corner of her lips crinkled just so. Watching this for a few seconds, Kate said, "Your friends don't judge you, and you said you're comfortable discussing these things with them. Why does it matter what I think, or what the IOA thinks?"

"I'm still jus' a bit scared of ye, love," Carson murmured, reaching for Nena's hand.

She snapped back to the side of the chair and nearly fell off. "Maybe I'm sick of you thinking that! I'm better now, you know that. Elizabeth and I came to an agreement. I will never hurt any of the humans and I will never hurt you or Meredith. I love you!"

Carson leaned over and pulled her back to him. He kissed her firmly before murmuring into her ear, "I know that, ye daft woman."

"I think I have all I need," Kate said quickly. "And I was serious what I mentioned couples counselling…"

Nena waved her off. "Excuse me, Dr Heightmeyer, but we must leave. I think this naughty boy needs to sit in the chair."

"Nena!"

Kate stared through them as they vanished into mid air. She waited momentarily, then laughed. Her hand quickly jumped up to cover her mouth as she remembered that their awareness was everywhere.

She wondered who the crazy one really was, because this was starting to make sense to her.

* * *

"I thought you said this was the way to the village," John said as he stopped abruptly on a small grassy knoll near the 'Jumper.

Jinto's forehead creased, making him look as old and worried as Halling. He bit his lip. "I...must have mixed up some of the landmarks. My father said it was a large gorash tree, with lots of grass around…but now that I think about it, I wasn't really listening."

"Can't be too hard to find any sign of life," Ronon supplied, drawing his weapon and inspecting it casually.

"Why do you say that?" John asked his team mate.

Ronon indicated the top of the tree line with his firearm. "Smoke. Someone's cooking."

"I'm so hungry!" Wex exclaimed.

"I hope that means all of Colonel Sheppard's chocolate is still on you," Jinto grumbled.

"...I'm not an adult yet so I need lots of food to grow!"

"You ate it all? And you're hungry?"

John pressed two knuckles over the edge of his sunglasses. He knew it had been a bad idea to give them more chocolate. After a moment, he opened his fingers to hook under the bridge of the shades before snapping them closed and into his pocket with one smooth gesture. Jinto and Wex gawped at him. Their attention thusly occupied, he said, "Okay, enough of that. We'll stop and ask for directions, then we'll take you back to your village. And _then_ Ronon will give you some more chocolate."

Two pairs of hopeful eyes fixed on Ronon, who shrugged. "Yeah. More chocolate."

The boys started racing into the trees. John jogged after them, increasing his pace when he heard the fast crunch-crunch of an approaching Satedan. Ronon kept up with ease as he asked, "What's chocolate?"

"Brown stuff, gets gooey in the sun," John said briefly. "You'll love it."

"Most brown things left in the sun stink worse than death," Ronon reflected.

"Remind me to give you some when we get back."

"I'll pass."

Thick stumps and towering trees blocked any straight path, but finally the density of the forest lightened enough to create a tiny clearing. Leaf litter had been swept aside to give the smoking fire a wide berth. Steam trickled into the air over a calm surface of thick liquid filling the pot over the fire. Already Jinto and Wex were closely inspecting it.

Looking around at the deserted foliage, John muttered, "This is a bad sign."

"At least there's food," Ronon said.

The Satedan dropped to a squat, snatched a discarded bowl from the ground and shovelled it into the soup. This was encouragement enough for growing boys.

"Hey, tuttleroot soup!" Jinto inhaled deeply. "Wex, pass me that bowl."

John brushed a palm over his face. "Wait, are you seriously going to sit there eating? Whoever cooked this is either waiting to spring an ambush, or something really bad happened to them. I don't exactly want to hang around and find out which situation we're dealing with."

"Either way, this food's just going to go to waste," Ronon pointed out.

Jinto's face reappeared as he lowered his bowl. He grinned around his frothy moustache. "It's good! Wex, pass me the bread."

"Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you can boss me around."

"But you're the closest to the bread!"

It wasn't quite a rustle that reached John's ear, or perhaps any sound at all, but it was as though little legs had started brushing up and down his neck. Sheppard scanned the gaps through the trees, slapping behind his head to rid himself of the sensation. It remained. He coughed. "Boys, keep quiet for a moment, okay? Ronon - keep an eye out. I'll scout the perimeter."

Ronon swallowed a particularly large gulp of soup before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Suit yourself."

Delving into the woods, John left behind loud chattering for the encasing silence of an alien world. Not that it was particularly weird or anything - in fact, it reminded John a little of camping trip he'd done in Canada once. The buzzing unease creeping as his skull faded away, much to his relief, but there was something hard to watch in the way the light shifted through disturbed leaves. Maybe it was all in his head. He'd been kind of stressed lately what with...

"Sheppard!"

John bolted back at the sound of his team mate's voice. When the clearing came back into view, he saw the pot upturned and Ronon blasting away at the ground. The Satedan kept wrestling Jinto or Wex back behind him whenever a curious head popped out. John skidded to a stop half a pace behind Ronon and swung out his P90.

"I knew it, I knew it was too quiet," John hissed. "What's up?"

"Bugs," was the terse explanation.

Bullets peppered the ground as John added to the firepower, barely missing what looked like to be a bunch of grass-coloured spiders the size of his own gun. He gritted his teeth. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Sheppard!" Jinto shook his shoulder. "Do you have the present we gave you?"

John didn't even turn around. "Uh, yes actually. It's back at the 'Jumper but I'm a little busy right now!"

He felt a short whisk of air pass behind him but didn't think much of it at first. Retreating back a few steps with Ronon as the spiders advanced, John flicked a look back and saw only Wex shouting into the forest, "Jinto! Don't leave me here!"

An echo ghosted through the trees. "You're big enough to look after yourself!"

* * *

Zelenka woke up, and regretted it almost immediately. For that first second or two, he actually felt quite good. Then his neck twinged and a hand passed in front of his face. Disorientated though he was, that didn't quite explain why the fingers didn't wriggle when he told them to. He jerked up and pulled his glasses harder back on his face.

"Hullo, Radek, are we interrupting ye?" Carson asked.

The scientist whisked around in panic, before seeing Nena retrieve Meredith from the cot.

"How did - I didn't - we were both sleeping?" Zelenka said uncertainly.

Beckett chuckled. "Consider yerself lucky, Radek. I think my daughter likes ye enough not to do anything more than sleep."

"We played chess…" Zelenka added vaguely. "I am sure I won two of three games and the subroutine was still intact, so...perhaps it was less liking me and more unable to leave the room, no?"

Nena walked over, her daughter's head draped over her shoulder and fast asleep. The entity smiled at the still rather befuddled Radek. "It would probably just slow her down - she's always growing and learning new things."

"She said - yes, look at this - she said 'shall we play a game'."

Zelenka touched the screen and brought up the wording. Both Mr and Mrs Beckett leaned forward to view it. Carson looked dubious. "I donae think so. She only knows a few words, but it does look a wee bit familiar. Is it from a movie?"

"How should I know, Carson?" Zelenka asked moodily. "Oh - how was the, uh, time with Heightmeyer?"

"We'll know soon enough," the king of Atlantis said gloomily.

* * *

Tree - dart to the side. Tree - leap over a large mouldy root. TREE. Two minutes into running backwards and failing to access any sixth sense or eco-locator should have meant a painful body slam into the forest. Sheer will and the refusal to put up with any more spiders kept John Sheppard afloat over many obstacles.

Ronon had swung Wex over his shoulder and sprinted ahead. John caught up and was about to ask why his team mate had stopped, then he saw the mound of bright green disintegrating into many little mounds. With legs. Four on edge side. And pincers.

Spraying the ground with yet more bullets and somehow missing every. single. TIME, John decided that the spiders were too smart for their own good. They seemed to sense wherever he wanted to pelt next.

"The US military sends us here with millions of dollars of weaponry," John snapped over the pit-pit-pit of his weapon, "but I'd trade every last P90 for a lousy can of Raid right about now!"

One of his bullets struck the shell of one and bounced right into a tree, leaving a scorch mark. Ronon managed to blast one spider into a green splatter before saying rather blandly, "Would you settle for some rock salt?"

John spotted Jinto a moment later as the Athosian raced towards them, holding high his prize.

"Jinto, give me the bag!" John ordered.

The bag of salt was tossed too short, falling into the hands of Wex. The boy stared at the gift rocking between his palms, mesmerised for several seconds. He tore off the leather tie, seized a fistful of white crystals and sprayed the nearest clump. A high-pitched shriek shattered through the air and several spiders wheeled around and hurried away. Wex began shaking the bag around in a circle, until all of the green monsters had disappeared into the dull hues of the forest, like no bright green thing should.

Wex brushed grains of salt off his fingers into the bag that still had a decent level remaining. He grinned and tucked it under his hide belt. Once he looked up, he finally took in the strange looks he was getting. Wex hummed the first few bars of a traditional tune from the village nonchalantly.

"Not bad," Ronon said and holstered his weapon.

"Not bad?" John repeated, astounded. "He managed to drive off the bugs, which I notice you didn't."

"Neither did you."

John retrieved his sunglasses and hid his eyes quickly. "Let's not write any reports about this one, huh?"

"There's a reason I don't write any," Ronon told him with a smirk.

"I figured. Jinto, about these bugs…"

Jinto scratched the back of his neck. "They have a nasty bite but they're not venomous."

A dull flare of pain spread behind John's forehead. He waved back behind him, indicating the clearing they had left. "So what happened to the people who cooked this up?"

"They were probably trying to find some salt," Jinto replied, casting his eyes to the ground. "We kind of…"

"Jinto, we shouldn't tell anyone!" Wex insisted.

"We're adults now, Wex. We need to take responsibility. We kind of took their salt because we thought you needed it more, so that's why they're not here. They're looking for more, maybe."

"And the gorash tree…" John trailed off.

Jinto's chin lifted and he nodded proudly. "It was the right one, I'm sure of that now. We took a wrong turn out of your flying ship though."

Flicking the safety on, and tucking the P90 against him, John kept quiet. He began the trudge back to the landmark tree, arms stiff at his sides. Once he reached the clearing, he turned around and waited for the boys to close in, with Ronon bringing up the rear. John backhanded the air with one hand, saying, "Ronon, would you be so kind to return our young friends to the village? And take the rest of the salt."

"How about you take them?" Ronon suggested, grinning.

John glared back. "Let's face it, they'll take one look at you and not ask questions."

* * *

The back door of the 'Jumper lowered, revealing at first wall, more wall and then Halling. John's hand fell from the switch at the back of the craft that had opened the door. Instantly exposed, he forced his lips to curve upwards in the hopes that he wouldn't betray any of time he'd spent being chased by spiders.

Halling apparently didn't spot any of this, thank God, and merely said, "I hope my son and his friend did not try your temper too much. They can be...a bit much to handle."

"No, no," John assured him. "Actually...they were kind of fun."

Ronon snorted.

"Will you be taking me back to the mainland?" Halling asked. "You could join us for our evening meal. Jinto would be happy, I know."

Escaping the 'Jumper at a moderate jog, Sheppard spotted Elizabeth and Rodney in discussion not too far off. John very loudly announced to the echoes of the bay, "You should take McKay. He hasn't had much time out of the city lately. He'd love to take you along."

Rodney's eyes swivelled to John. "What?"

"Wouldn't you, Rodney?" John wheedled, almost reaching the desperate act of begging.

His team mate crossed his arms and defiantly stood still. Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder possibly a bit hard, because he dropped his arms and grumbled, "I - I - when do we leave?"

Luckily Bates new attitude had now extended to Halling, so he offered to act as a buffer between Athosian and astrophysicist. Once the 'Jumper had risen skyward, Elizabeth turned to Ronon and John.

"Was it really that bad?" she asked.

Ronon answered that. "I don't think he wants to talk about it."

"Will you talk about it then?"

"No," Ronon deadpanned. "But I will say it's kind of bugging him."

"RONON!" John growled.

* * *

"You two look shifty," Grodin observed from his place at the console.

Standing together and holding hands, Nena and Carson had pretty much kept that position for a full ten minutes. The CMO admitted anxiously, "Och, well we are waiting to hear anything about Dr Heightmeyer's decision."

Peter tapped his chin with two fingers. "Can't you just...listen in?"

"Aye, if we wanted to disrespect Elizabeth. She required...a wee bit of privacy and ye can't blame her."

"You think I'm going to let a bunch of humans decide our fate without my knowing it?" Nena demanded, eyes distant.

"Love...yer not are ye…"

Grodin muffled a chuckle into the control panel.

* * *

Two women capable of vastly influencing the reputations and orders of those in Atlantis sat in a room together. Such a thing had happened before, and probably would again, but Elizabeth felt a sense of urgency. She'd slipped to the edge of her chair, though kept her spine straight enough to hide the distance between her back and the hard plastic behind her. It was strange to her - a year ago, the very thought of a sentient city would have concerned her.

Well, it still concerned her. But she was concerned _for_ said sentience, as well as the friend and confidant she had in her Chief Medical Officer.

"Let me hear it," Elizabeth instructed.

Kate Heightmeyer leaned over to rest her elbows on her knees, hands limply connected in front of her. "I only have to tell the IOA two things. Firstly, I am going to officially report to anyone interested that Dr Beckett is fit for duty. And secondly, neither he nor his wife pose any threat - physically or otherwise - to the running of this expedition or its people."

Elizabeth unwound her tensed ankles from the legs of her chair. She nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear that. Thank you, Kate."

"Uh, Elizabeth - if I could just suggest…I think you should let me see them as a couple for counselling - "

The floor beneath their feet burred hard enough to shake loose an ornament or two from their positions on the table running along the wall.

"It's, uh, not all that necessary," Kate amended and left with haste.

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and contemplated the view of a busy control room. Her eyes found a couple of people adding to the usual traffic jams.

"Nena, as I'm sure you're listening," she addressed the wall, "could you please relay the good news to Carson?"

* * *

Two men sat in a room, lit only by the aqua glow of computer screens and the occasional red flash from the underside of a mouse. They were about to uncover a plot, and hatch another.

"I know who it is," Major Evan Lorne baited.

Zelenka paused. "Who?"

"Lieutenant Cadman. And I have proof."

"Oh yes?" Radek snorted. "Better proof than when you last challenged her?"

"Come on, Zelenka, I thought you'd want to hear this."

"I do!"

The blue tint bathing Evan Lorne's face faded as he turned his back on the screens, instead turning himself into an indistinct silhouette. "Well my intel is good. I got this strange message on my bedroom wall telling me to look in some storage room out on the West pier. Okay, so it was more like a big map or something with a flashing dot but that's not the point. I sent one of my moles to check it out - and they bought a case of beer off her."

Skipping past the fact that a baby had helped them out, the scientist went straight to wild anger at the final realisation of his nemesis' identity.

"D'áblice!" snapped Zelenka.


	7. Not So Little Boys Pt 1

AN: I tried very hard to rewrite two particular episodes, then decided they were too brilliant to dart around. So, very simply, they somehow managed to get Ford back onto Atlantis at the end of "The Hive". I've taken this kind of liberty before with these fics!

_

* * *

_

Story 7 – Not So Little Boys (Part 1)

* * *

_Some time around lunch_

_January 2005_

_Atlantis_

Carson Beckett stood behind eleven scientists, who were all clutching metal mugs and weaving on their feet. Today's menu consisted of some pulpy Athosian vegetable and the very last watery dregs of coffee officially available. The grains may have been sloshed through multiple times, but the very thought of even an insy bit of caffeine lured in all manner of stressed personnel into the mess.

"Hey, doc," greeted Aiden from behind him.

After turning to face his companion, Carson then chortled and waved a hand to indicate the people ahead of them. "Come to witness the mad dash have ye, son?"

Lt. Ford leaned to one side to get a better look at the buffet table. His nose crumpled up into his face. "Okay, we really have to talk to McKay about eating all the good stuff. Where'd they get that from?"

"Teyla suggested it," Carson replied, an eyebrow raised. "She seemed ta think it was a good source of protein, which I'm sure we all need in the next week or so."

A pause. Then the younger man forced a grin and licked his lips. Chortling, the CMO steered him away from the queue of irritable coffee-aholics and into a sunny corner of the mess hall. Once they were seated, Caron held out his arm palm down and shook the limb. A chocolate bar snaked out from the sleeve of his labcoat, skidding across to land in front of Ford.

Aiden inhaled it in two breaths, then remembered his manners. Sheepishly, he passed back the wrapper. "Thanks. I don't suppose you have any more of that hidden around someplace."

"No, actually that was my last," Carson admitted. "But I hear Zelenka has a stash ye might consider bribing him to part with."

"Nah, he probably needs it more. Speaking of, uh, protein, is there anything Nena needs?"

Dr Beckett warily regarded his companion and saw only frank curiosity in Ford's eyes. Relaxing back into this chair, Carson said cheerfully, "Now I realise this might be strange to ye still, but Nena isn't like us. I suppose she could have a wee bite, as she has managed some corporeality, though it wouldnae do anything for her. I donae know myself what the lass needs."

"My grandparents kinda raised me so I don't know how the whole parenting thing goes."

"Yer grandparents?" Carson repeated in surprise.

"Yeah. I may not know about this stuff, but I reckon you'd make a good father. Just let your daughter have some fun once in a while."

"And leave her to yer influence no doubt."

The Lieutenant grinned. "Hey, someone's gotta pass on the position of pissing off McKay."

"I'll keep that in mind," Carson said dryly. "And – thankye, Aiden."

"Uh, what for?"

"I'm sure ye'll figure tha' out."

* * *

_Too bloody early_

_September 2005_

_Atlantis_

Sleep didn't exactly rank high on John Sheppard's priority list right about now, but it was the only thing he could so while sitting beside a bed in the infirmary. He last checked his watch a while ago, and it may have said midnight then. Possibly hours later, though still floating in the darkness of the room, John waited. He might have even sent a small prayer off into the ether, though he wasn't sure who was supposed to answer. God or the Ancients, or someone else maybe.

"John, ye should be in bed," Carson reproached, leaving his office to stand beside him. "I promise to let ye know the moment he regains consciousness."

"I need to be here when he wakes up," John said bluntly.

For a few moments, both men watched the reluctant rise and fall of the patient's chest, and listened carefully for any sharp intake of breath that would signal a change. The days since they'd brought a limping and wild-eyed Lt. Aiden Ford back to Atlantis had been frustrating for John. While his team mate had been spirited away, he'd been forced to sit down and spit out sentence after sentence about what happened – in earshot of Caldwell, no less.

John thought it didn't matter how they got Ford back, just that he was here. And he was finally off his kick. Except now there was that other problem. That problem was the slight detail of a replaced team member.

"I keep thinking if I'd spent more time talking to him than throwing orders at him..." Sheppard hesitated. "I keep thinking...this is kind of my fault."

"Oh aye, it's yer fault the Wraith beamed into the city, left a mess and put Aiden in a position to get all that enzyme. Diabolical, that plan."

A muscle beneath John's eye twitched. "Carson, you know I appreciate your friendship, but I'm thinking it's probably a good idea I didn't bring my gun in here."

"I see," the CMO said gruffly. "And I suppose I don't feel any worse, given that this crusade of his had something to do with Meredith and myself."

"How do you figure that?"

"I don't know, John. Jus' somethin' the lad said to me once, about not having his parents. I suppose he thought he was protecting Meredith from that fate."

"He had a warped way of doing that."

"And do ye think ye'd have done it differently?"

"Even on enzyme, I wouldn't have run off half-cocked into the galaxy with some crazy scheme in mind! I don't buy it from you, Carson. What I did...was...I didn't give the kid enough guidance and I was his CO – it's my job."

"Not meaning to point fingers here, but it's kind of my fault too," Aiden piped up from the bed.

Carson and John both stared at him.

Ford sighed. "Guys, I'm fine. I mean, I don't just feel fine, I am."

"Aye, we've heard that before," Carson said under his breath.

"No, listen. Doc, Colonel – I'm not about to hijack any Hive Ships, if that helps. I feel...awake. More lucid than I've been in months. But...can you tell me one thing? What's my eye look like?"

John winced. "Are you sure you want an answer to that?"

"That good, huh?"

"I donae know, Aiden...it makes ye look, oh, slightly rakish," Carson supplied with a small smile. "The ladies will like it, I'm sure."

Ford's lips twisted. "Good, wouldn't want to ruin my image. Beckett, you don't happen to have any chocolate bars up your sleeve do you?"

* * *

_0700_

_A storage closet_

_Somewhere near the South Pier_

The panel that sealed the storage closet from the outside corridor whooshed back in a neat and streamlined fashion, admitting the fiend responsible for such responsive controls. It had taken many hours during the time that Rodney had been detained aboard the _Deadalus _on the way back to Atlantis, but Radek Zelenka had finally found and dusted off his little piece of heaven.

Today it doubled as a cramped war room. Of course, it wouldn't be so squishy if Bates hadn't insisted on donning his BDU, as he usually did of late. Rumours naturally abounded that he was compensating for something, possibly the entire lack of any such protection on his 2IC Evan Lorne. The latter wore a shirt and pants, and nothing else. What "nothing else" entails was up to anyone's imagination.

The last member of the meeting took up even more space than the padded Donald Bates. Arms bulging as they crossed in front of his chest, the city's resident Satedan made no move to shift aside for Radek.

"Ah, what is he doing here?" Zelenka demanded, eyeing Ronon with the age-old trepidation wired into the DNA of academics living in the shadows of very tall, very athletic and very dread-locked men.

"Don't worry about it," Lorne assured him.

A odd curdling mixed with a low baritone note clawed its way out of Sergeant Bates' throat.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Lorne flung at him.

"Okay, you're the 2IC and I call the shots," Bates reminded his comrade.

Zelenka tipped his head back to place Ronon squarely in the magnification of his lenses. The Satedan nibbled idly on a thumb nail, before shrugging towards Radek who was taken aback by the companionable gesture.

"You don't know why he is here," Zelenka deduced finally, then raised his voice, "Meredith!"

Silence.

Ronon's teeth found the chipped nail of his index finger.

"I swear I saw her fifteen minutes ago in the transporter," Lorne supplied. "But I don't know, she's a fast kid. She could be anywhere."

Just typical, thought Radek. For the past fortnight, it had been deemed an unusual day if the youngest member of the Atlantis expedition didn't suddenly wheel past in mid-air before vanishing into a wall – at least three times in fewer minutes. And now, just when the crucial link in the War on Affordable Contraband was needed, she was nowhere to be found.

Already, the legend of Meredith Beckett's refusal to learn to crawl in her physical form had been spun through all the departments – enough that when a small figure bounced through the corridors giggling, they offered a mug of coffee to thin air for the poor father. Carson sometimes took those offers seriously.

"Maybe Beckett tried to get her crawling again," Ronon said.

"Doubtful," Bates said to this. "Dr Beckett's been in the infirmary all night with Lieutenant Ford. Probably making sure he doesn't start shooting up the place again – I told Colonel Sheppard we need to post more than one guard on the door..."

A tinny sneeze drew their attention to the middle of the closet. Meredith sat, rocking from her ankles to her backside and back again. Someone – probably her despairing father – had adorned her in a frilly white dress and a pair of pink booties no one had as yet owned up to making. There were 10-1 odds of it being John Sheppard's handiwork, and a bizarrely favourable 2-1 on Ronon.

"Right, now that we're all here," Bates said briskly.

"And we don't want to know why Ronon is here," Lorne added, casting a bemused smile down at Meredith. "But it'd sure help if we knew what was going on in that head of yours."

Bates glowered.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, you get to be chairman, boss."

"I get it now," Ronon mused.

Zelenka blinked at him. "Get what?"

"Why you haven't nailed Lt. Cadman yet. You talk too much."

"Uh, does he know both the meanings of 'nailed'?" ventured Lorne cautiously.

Bates grinned evilly. "I don't see how that's relevant, but you probably do talk too much that way too."

"Hey, Cadman and I never really talk much. She hands my ass to me before I can get a word in."

The walls of the storage closet dissolved into white noise, accompanied by loud angry buzzing. Radek clapped his hands over his ears and shut one eye, squinting out the other. Meredith mumbled to herself and clapped her hands. One moment she was sitting there, next she was an image on the wall.

Beside her form, a screen snapped up. It showed a seemingly inconsequential door on yet another bland beige-coloured wall. A bright red X dashed across the door.

"Well we knew that already," Bates said. "X marks the spot."

The image dissolved into red Ancient text that crawled slowly into English, which then spread out to fill around a blue-print (or rather, green-print, as was Meredith's preference) of the city. Zelenka had suggested a timeline of each implementation of the plan, something which had caused a bit of a tiff with Meredith who had locked him in his shower for a few hours. Explaining that away had been difficult, especially as the struggling kingpin of chocolate and coffee had no wish for anyone (read: Rodney McKay) to find out that he needed a child to help him.

"Does no one think it odd we are taking information from a baby?" Zelenka asked, belatedly he knew.

"She knows everything in the city," Lorne pointed out.

Ronon smirked. "You should be more worried about why she's telling you this stuff."

A shiver zig-zagged between Radek's shoulder blades. He cleared his throat and bounded for the door, preferring not to dwell on that too closely.

* * *

_0800_

_Rodney's Lair_

_A desirable zip code of Atlantis_

Teyla looked at the shoes, set parallel to each other on the lab bench, before she finally shook her head and turned to leave the lab. She had made it one step from the corridor before Rodney McKay hurtled in and clipped her shoulder as he slapped his bare feet over the floor. His toe hit the corner of the bench and he swore grumpily, hopping around the table to flick open his lapop. He looked up and saw his visitor.

"Okay, the silence is a good start," Rodney acknowledged. "But any brilliant mind can't work if there's someone looking over his shoulder or...not over the shoulder because you're in front of me. Did you want something, apart from the staring thing?"

"You seem busy," Teyla observed. "It can wait."

Rodney's eyes went wide. "Nonono, you're pulling the face."

"The...face?" Teyla repeated.

"Yeah, you get this really closed off look on your face when you're not impressed with someone and usually I wouldn't mind seeing that, because it's aimed at Wraith or any other bad guys who happen to inhabit this galaxy – but look, not at me! Whatever it is – I'll do it, just don't pull the face."

"Very well," Teyla said, bringing her inward smile to bear. "I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast."

"What, with you?"

"Or you could sit at a separate table to make it seem like I am not there," Teyla suggested.

"Hmm. Did John put you up to this? This is totally him. Put the hot girl in front of the geek guy and – "

"Rodney!" Teyla interrupted. "This is a request made from friendship. I consider you _a friend_."

Rodney's face dipped behind the laptop as he slouched. "Huh. You don't – not even a little? It's the hair, isn't it."

"No, Rodney, I think your hair is fine. What you lack in manners, you have in the goodness of your heart. I don't see you anyway except for the gifted and – _likeable_ friend that you are. I am sure that one day there will be someone who sees you as something more."

Rodney was silent for a good twenty seconds before he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right. Yes. Breakfast. We should, uh go."

Teyla shook her head at his retreating back. She waited.

Rodney walked briskly back in and swiped his shoes onto the floor with one arm, stuffing his feet into them. He pointed towards the door and headed out once more. This time Teyla followed.

* * *

_0815_

_Atlantis control room_

_In eyeshot of some great views_

Standing in the dead centre of the control room, hands linked behind her back, Elizabeth Weir did her best impression of an immovable mountain. Flatly, almost to the point of seeming disinterested, she addressed the view screen in front of her. "General Landry, I understand the need to return Lt. Ford to Earth, but we – I believe his rehabilitation should begin here, among those who can sympathise."

"Dr Weir, do you think I spend my time giving orders in the hope that someone takes it as a fun suggestion?"

Elizabeth fought hard to keep her tone even. "I take this very seriously, as it concerns a member of my expedition – "

"May I remind you, this member of your expedition endangered the security of Atlantis and of Earth by extension. Hardly the actions that warrant sympathy."

The 'gate died abruptly. Elizabeth started, and was not surprised a moment later when Nena flashed beside her. She was bemused, however, to see that the city's sentience seemed to vibrate with agitation and her usually tidy auburn hair had turned into a wiry helmet hanging around her head.

"Do I even want to ask?" Weir wondered.

Nena slid her hands over her hair, flattening the mess in a heartbeat. "I am sorry, Elizabeth, but Meredith is getting into the systems. This is like a big toy for her."

"And I suppose she thought she was helping me."

"Yes," Nena said, blinking.

"Nena, much as I would like never to speak with General Landry again..." Elizabeth stopped and curved her hand over the side of her face, one finger massaging her temple. "...this is important. In two days, the SGC expects Lt. Ford to walk through the event horizon and leave here forever."

"He could disappear?" Nena said brightly. "You Earthlings have barely scouted out half of the city and there are many places I could hide Aiden, if you like."

Elizabeth's lips softened at the suggestion, but she didn't make it into a smile. "I admit I'm surprised. I thought...you wouldn't take too kindly to Ford after what he did when the Wraith were attacking."

"Perhaps I am getting a bit lazy in my old age."

"You don't look any more than thirty," Elizabeth told her.

"That's sweet of you to say, but I do have a lot of corrosion that wasn't helped any by the storm last year..."

Laughter filled the control room and it took several moments for Dr Weir to realise that it was her own.

* * *

_0900_

_Briefing room_

_Somewhere with no windows whatsoever_

Only when a technician informed her that she was late did Elizabeth Weir slowly approach the briefing room. Sliding through one of the door panels and then waiting for it to seal into a wall behind her, she nodded to each of those in attendance. Colonel Caldwell had taken a seat slightly off-centre, sandwiching Aiden Ford between himself and John on the other side. Carson looked comfortable by comparison, though he was wedged onto one corner of the oddly shaped table.

Elizabeth stood before them, looking down to where they were seated. She drew a long breath, and held it.

"This is a waste of time," Caldwell announced.

She let out a stale gasp of air. "Is it? We are talking about the future of one of our own."

"You have your orders, I have mine," the Daedalus commander said with a hint of a smile. "Should there be any reason you're unable to do so, I'm sure I can fill in."

John opened his mouth, but Carson beat him to it. "Aye, but ye can wait two days. Failing tha', you might find yeself unable to rectify that situation if ye were...locked in a storage closet."

Caldwell eyed him. "Are you threatening me, doctor?"

"No one's threatening anyone," John placated, but with a grin. "I'd hear Dr Weir out before you start jumping the gun on us."

"Excuse me, can I speak for myself?" Ford asked, lifting his eyes from the table.

"Please do," invited Elizabeth, still standing.

Caldwell crossed his arms on the table. "This'll be good."

"I did something stupid," Aiden began, the lid over his black eye bulging as he tried to close his eyes briefly. "I'm not saying I didn't. But you don't know how the enzyme feels. It makes you feel like Superman or something. Except there's no Kryptonite. The more you get, the more you need until you'll do just about anything to get a taste. I'm not proud of it. But it's not...it's not all my fault!"

The frustration that burst from him at the end made him shrink into the chair like a chastised child. Elizabeth bit her tongue to remind herself not to appear moved. She prompted, "What about now? Do you want it?"

"Yeah," Ford admitted. "But it's not...it's not like that anymore. I think."

"Do you want to stay on Atlantis?" asked Caldwell so quietly that Elizabeth took a step forward to hear him.

"A week'd be nice. Two days isn't enough. But I really just want to go home."

"You'll get your wish," Col. Caldwell said simply and left the room.

"Well now what was tha' about?" Carson asked, bewildered.

John tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Caldwell isn't the bad guy. He gets it. And besides, Nena knows where he hides his motorcycle doesn't she?"

"Motorcycle!" Elizabeth repeated, eyebrows lifting. "Carson, I asked you and Nena to not keep secrets from me."

The aforementioned sentience swung her legs as she sat on the edge of the table next to her husband. John flicked a couple of fingers toward Nena in greeting. Ford stared at her mutely.

"You seem rather quiet all of a sudden, Aiden," Nena noted. "I'm sure if I had normal ears, I still would have heard you all the way over on the South pier. I would have been here earlier, but Meredith was doing something over there..."

The lights flickered.

Elizabeth glanced down at her hands and linked them together, straightening them to form a bridge of her knuckles. She pressed them to her lips and thought very briefly.

"Lieutenant Ford," she said, smiling either side of her hands. "You have a week to settle your affairs. Might I suggest not commiserating around here?"

Nena beamed. "A good idea! I know just the place – there's this address in the database. It's uninhabited but very nice. There are pictures of a lake so you can go fishing, Carsie-buns."

Someone snickered. No one wanted to own up to it.

Carson sighed. "Aye, love. Fishing."

"And you should go, Elizabeth," Nena finished.

Dr Weir dropped her hands. "Excuse me?"

"It's not like the place is going to fall apart with Nena looking after it," John reminded her.

"You seem to be forgetting that in all matters of defence the IOA only accepts the judgement of a human – no offence, Nena, I know you would not endanger us."

"I'll stay."

Everyone looked at John.

"You're staying, sir?" Ford clarified.

Colonel Sheppard leaned to the side to get a good look at his subordinate. Sure, the black eye was creepier than even his fourth grade teacher's glass one, but he had to remember the kid that had leapt backwards through a Stargate with galactic glee. Running wild out in the galaxy might have slapped some sense into Aiden Ford, but the full agonising regret hadn't yet blasted into his brain.

John knew all about that kind of regret. He'd been lucky the only retribution had been the indignity of being busted down to Major a couple of years ago. Ford had a freaking black eye. He was an enzyme-aholic and...still hero-worshipped the asshole who'd dragged him into a Dart hanger and zapped him away. A hell of an intervention.

"When you get back," John said with a nod, "we'll talk. You kids go have fun. I'll call if anything happens."

Of course, at that moment, what John Sheppard meant by "anything" was "impending doom courtesy of the friendly neighbourhood Wraith". What fate had in store for him was more along the lines of "a clash of black market kingpins, and a party to which any authority figures were not invited".

That kind of sucked actually, because two years ago a dishonoured Major would have been in on the party from the start.

* * *

_1330_

_M4B-1313_

_Somewhere in the Pegasus Galaxy_

No matter how Rodney stressed that a Puddlejumper was required for what essentially was a vacation, Elizabeth had flat out refused. Not only was the perennial boy scout tasked with carrying a camo-tent through the gate, he had to set it up. For the first two hours of their trip, Rodney paced between two trees, trying to find soil that wasn't too hard for his back or too soft for the tent pegs to hold.

Watching with amusement were Aiden Ford and his charge – Meredith, who seemed to have no problem being awkwardly held while the Lieutenant looked around hopefully for anyone to save him from his predicament. He had no problem with kids – there were always enough of those around his grandparents' house. But this was Beckett's daughter and Ford knew he'd only just jumped back on the wagon. He settled for laughing nervously at Rodney. Meredith blew bubbles.

"I don't think it's any harder than rocket science, Rodney," Elizabeth pointed out, lying back against one of the trees and trying to shift with the changing shade to keep the sun off her PDA screen.

Carson chuckled quietly from his perch in a tree. No one was entirely sure how he'd got up there, or indeed so quickly, though Rodney suspected that Lantean technology was somehow enabling the CMO to teleport. No such thing existed on M4B-1313, or so Nena reckoned.

Ford stepped forward, slipping Meredith around to his left side. "I'll help you, McKay."

"No. I know where this is going and no."

A pause, then – "So where is this going?"

"You'll make one or two little jokes, the audience will laugh and applaud and it will leave me at a disadvantage come dinner time."

Ford paused and counted to ten. To his credit, it wasn't enzyme he wanted right that second – but to deliver a good smack to a certain physicist. Oh, hell with it. He marched over, Meredith in one arm and scooped up a tent peg in the other. He hurled the peg down through the hook at one corner of the tent and it stuck fast.

Rodney stared at the hand Ford held out to him. The scientist's expression hovered between an indignant storm cloud and a worried uncle. Sensing more than one pair of eyes squinting at him suspiciously, Ford half-growled, "Look, I'm not hopped up anymore. I've been camping and I have pretty good aim sometimes."

Rodney opened his mouth to deliver his best urinal joke.

"Don't even think about it, Rodney," Elizabeth warned, eyes now fixed back onto her PDA.

The moment passed a little awkwardly before Aiden handed over Meredith to her godfather. Barely a minute later, Ford stepped back from the staked tent and gestured elegantly at it. He tossed a challenging grin at McKay, which was caught, regarded, and then turned into a revenge brainstorm. Carson smothered his chuckle this time, which Rodney thought was half-way decent of him.

Elizabeth dropped the PDA into her lap and shook her head. "Boys."

Seemingly deaf to this statement, Aiden squatted beside her and held out Meredith until Elizabeth set the child on her lap, upright. Young Beckett rocked, using her momentum to carry her forward onto her stomach. All watched – all waited – and Meredith stayed right where she was. No attempts to crawl or run away. Carson groaned and leapt out of the tree.

"Remind me why we're doubling as The Babysitters Club?" demanded Rodney from inside his tent, shuffling around and, by the sounds of it, building a pyramid of power bars.

Meredith gazed in his direction, a confused dart to her eyes. Elizabeth looked at her father questioningly and Carson explained, "Without the audio recordings on Atlantis, my lass doesnae understand as much of what we're saying here."

"So get a Babel fish," Ford suggested, winking his normal eye.

Carson cleared his throat. "And do ye know who came up with the Babel fish to begin with?"

"Bill Gates?" Ford said with a diagonal grin.

Something akin to horror spread across the CMO's face. Things might have turned nasty – or into a British pop culture lesson – had Aiden not quickly added, "Relax. I know. Douglas Noel Adams."

Carson looked suitably impressed. Choosing the right moment to appear, Ronon stomped back from the lake, his knotted net filled with fish the size of a small child. The catch made a wet thwacking sound as he dumped it before them.

"What's this now?" Beckett demanded. "Did ye get the jump on us, then?"

"Wasn't me," Ronon informed them, keeping a lingering look on Ford. "I found them dead like this and I figured McKay would know what's wrong with them."

Aiden chortled. "Right, I knew you couldn't get that many fish so quick without a little help."

"You didn't think to bring them back for dinner?" Rodney asked, rolling his eyes.

"If you eat them, I'm not holding your head up while you spew it back out," Ronon said.

Elizabeth stood up, returning Meredith to her father. Both Becketts turned their blue eyes around the clearing, before settling back on the fish. Elizabeth gestured towards the Satedan. "Ronon's right. We don't know what killed them, or the risk we could be taking by eating them."

"Oh, right so we're going to take a magnifying glass over to the lake are we, lads?" Carson said, disgruntled.

* * *

_1400_

_Doctor Elizabeth Weir's office_

_A rather handy vantage point_

John Sheppard, highest ranking military officer currently stationed in Atlantis and temporary guardian of the city, sat in Elizabeth's office and tried to look professional. For most of that time spent busying himself with nothing, he had been watched attentively by Teyla. Her refusal to leave the city with the others had something to do with teaching a self defence class, apparently, but John had not missed the relieved look that Elizabeth had turned over her shoulder at the Athosian before being eclipsed by the pool of blue light.

"Alright, I admit I have no idea what Elizabeth does all day," John said.

Teyla lifted her head from the back of her chair, blinking at him slowly. "You have never thought about it?"

"What – of course I have!" John hurriedly defended himself. "I just happen to be too busy whenever a crisis hits Atlantis so I can't exactly sit down and watch."

"Perhaps you should use the time to update your reports?" Teyla suggested. "I believe the last report you filed began its journey tacked to your door where you were throwing darts at it."

"I reprinted that!" John exclaimed.

"Did you ever wonder what happened to the copy you threw holes into?"

John stared at her suspiciously. Teyla merely smiled. Before he could jump up and order her to explain just what that was about, bits and pieces of light sparkled through the air before coalescing into the shape of Nena, cross-legged on the floor. She beamed up at both of them, waved and suddenly whooshed into existence on the desk.

Nena nodded at Teyla, then clapped her hands in front of John's face. "They have been gone for three hours. We must move quickly before – before," she finished vaguely.

"Do you really think sending off your daughter was a good idea?" John asked Nena, frowning slightly.

Her expression become guarded. "No, not really. But if you had an idea what she's been getting up to, you wouldn't sleep at night! No, a trip off-world is the right thing for Meredith now. I only hope I have stopped her in time."

"In time?" Teyla asked.

Three figures clothed in black went sliding past in the control room on their socks. John counted two military, one civilian and a brilliant new headache.

"Where's Cadman?" he barked at Nena, then regretted his rough tone. He scaled it back. "Okay, forget that. What's going on?"

"Meredith thought she was helping."

"Meredith does a lot of that," John grated.

"Perhaps we should be the ones helping you," Teyla offered.

Holding up his hands, John waved the already retreating women back to him. "Uh, wait just a second! I'm not going to run half-cocked after some of my best officers."

Teyla paused long enough to counter, "Then perhaps you should come fully-cocked?"

Acting-leader of the expedition, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, decided to follow the counsel of his advisers. He jogged after them.

* * *

_1415_

_M4B-1313_

_Still somewhere in the Pegasus Galaxy_

Four adults and one baby stared out at the lake. The surface shone so much it resembled a salt pan, and ripples didn't even dare to make an appearance. Nothing stirred. Okay, nothing except Rodney who swatted his shoulders and elbows every few seconds to scare off the flying gnats of the planet which seemed to find his skin succulent and tasty.

"Ye caught them all," Carson accused Ronon loudly.

This would have been ignored by the Satedan, but Meredith lifted her head from her father's shoulder and glared in a way that would have looked even more terrifying on Nena. Ronon blinked and did not catch her eye again.

Ford chortled. "Hey doc, I'm sure there's plenty of fish left for you to catch and release."

"I believe you missed the part about kissing the fish," Elizabeth said with a smile.

"I'm not kissing anything from that lake," Ronon growled, apparently recomposed though he moved to stand between Elizabeth and Ford instead.

Rodney flapped his arms as he spun in a circle, cursing. "Oh great, so no one things to bring along the Raid or those mosquito coil things, which don't really work but it's kind of like a placebo if you think about it..."

Ford winked aside to his companions and hurtled forward, slamming Rodney face and stomach first into the water.

"You're safe now, McKay!" taunted Aiden.

Meredith giggled. Slipping her hand over her lips, Elizabeth turned her eyebrows downward, forcing the laugh back behind her nose. She didn't miss the quick tip of Ronon's head towards Ford, nor the exchanged smirks. Male bonding over fish and humiliation – nothing new, Elizabeth supposed.

"Alrigh', now ye can take a water sample," Carson called down to his friend.

"With _what_?"

"I'm sure ye can think of something."

Rodney, waist-deep and glaring behind dribbles of water, appeared to glow – either because of the water's reflection or due to him about to go nuclear. He sloshed a few steps further into the water to sulk, but fell forward abruptly, slapping the water with his face. When he surfaced again, he held up one finger which forestalled comment. Ronon, Ford, Carson and Elizabeth all chose to keep quiet, knowing that any wrong word would set their friend off on another rant. Meredith pointed at Rodney, her fingers opening into a wave. The scientist's expression faded from building rage to a vague smile.

"I don' believe it," Carson murmured.

"Yeah, McKay's turning into a sap," Ford said.

"Oh like yer not?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes over the horizon to Ronon beside her, who shrugged with a grin. While Rodney clambered over the reeds that swathed the edge of the lake, and mostly failing to keep from falling back down again, Carson shifted his daughter to his right and smiled down at her. Meredith didn't look any trouble with her half-closed eyes and her cherubic smile.

For the briefest moment, a proud father forgot that little failure-to-crawl business and just wondered that he could be blessed with such a sweet wee lass – and her various honorary aunts and uncles who were more family than friends.

In no time at all, she'd be a teenager and fending off the lads (Carson imagined that Ronon would probably deal with that situation better than he could) and then she'd be a woman trying to tell her father to stop working so late and...

Carson gasped, kneeling onto the ground. The nausea had advanced so slowly, closing in just like an old friend he'd conveniently forgotten, that he'd not noticed it until it swarmed down his throat. He choked momentarily – then he heard the cries of his daughter. Stroking her back with one hand, he splayed the fingers of his other hand out to the sky and clenched them back together to centre himself. The ground stopped swaying under his knees, allowing him to lurch to his feet.

"Carson, are you both alright?" Elizabeth asked sharply.

"Wraith!" he groaned.

"Oh hell no!" Ford said to this.

"When you have all run out of relevant points to add to this discussion," snapped Rodney, "I'd suggest getting out of here!"

All eyes flicked to Elizabeth. Suddenly, she very much wanted to be seated behind her desk, attempting to hide a game of computer solitaire while comfortably coming up with some sort of solution. Instead of the PDA she'd brought, she also very much wanted it to be a Beretta, at the very least.

"I suppose..." Her eyes snapped from side to side, before landing on a target. "Head for the tree line?"

Ford and Carson bolted, Meredith held tight to the chest of the latter. Leaping over to the lake, Ronon hooked a hand through the back of Rodney's BDUs and pulled the scientist up onto the bank. Wasting no time with being gentle, the Satedan pushed his team mate ahead, giving him a good natured slap on the lower back. Rodney squeaked indignantly before streaking after the others.

Ronon grabbed Elizabeth's elbow and hauled her along with him as he passed. He had the grace not to say something to confirm her own disappointment in herself, but she wished he had as her feet found stones to stumble over while his steady pace kept her tailing behind.

A distant whine turned into a scream as the darts came at them.

Elizabeth Weir suddenly found that she could, in fact, keep up with Ronon Dex.

* * *

to be continued...

* * *

AN2: I'm sorry! This was getting far too long and I've had to split this one. :O Will you ever forgive me? Hopefully part 2 will not take as long to write. Following that will be one more story and then an epilogue.

And just for the record, I really like Landry. :)


	8. Not So Little Boys Pt 2

Disclaimer: I own none of the following: _Stargate, Doctor Who, __Star Trek_.

* * *

_Several hours earlier_

_A small but charming sea-side apartment_

_Atlantis_

Laura Cadman peered into the corridor outside her quarters. She bit the corner of her lip as darkness continued to stare defiantly back at her. Today was one of those blindingly beautiful days with enough sea breeze to wash out any residual heat. She'd woken up in a patch of light and had immediately decided to take a slow burn jog down to her contraband stash and back. She wasn't due to report in until the evening. The night shifts agreed very much with her night owl predisposition – and her plans to run Zelenka out of town.

It wasn't like she'd specifically targeted the guy. She liked him. He had a killer castling move in chess which she respected him for. But Laura always appreciated chocolate at least five days out of twenty-eight and it had appalled her to hear about the prices being charged.

So she decided to put her stash to good use. And then more, as the _Daedalus _zipped between galaxies.

Now, faced with a pitch-black and ominous scene outside her quarters, Laura figured she should have expected this. The sun was already clearing the horizon at her window, so chances were there wasn't a different time zone awaiting her on another side of the door.

"Okay, I think someone around here needs to grow up – and not McKay, surprisingly," she said evenly, before retrieving the night vision goggles she stashed in her bathroom cabinet next to some Swiss chocolate (all medicinal supplies, naturally).

Laura tiptoed down the corridor with ease. Her next little problem announced itself in the form of a locked sliding door, which she was pretty sure hadn't existed last night. Slipping her fingers over the panel and wondering why she hadn't bothered to learn how to pick Lantean locks, the Lieutenant knew that if she didn't deal with this now, the rest of her day would suck.

Her first clue was a digitised tinkle of mirth hovering in the sound system above her head.

Laura Cadman raised her eyes to the panelling and simply smiled.

It took no more than two minutes to locate her personal stash of contraband – decidedly less edible and a lot more explosive. She'd barely started wiring up the door when it opened, blinding her with a bland green light until she ripped off her goggles.

Some girls play with ponies. Some half-human half-Ancient girls play with citywide circuits they really shouldn't. Laura Cadman had blown up a letterbox at the age of six.

"I think I know how this goes," Laura said conversationally to the walls that led into the bowels of the city. "You feel sorry for the little guy and want to protect him from the new kid on the block. I totally get that. But I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

_...except to my main supply_, she thought and burst into a dead run.

* * *

_Some hours later_

_A dark and scary cave_

_M4B-1313_

"I have _plenty _of experience with camping. When Jeannie and I were kids, Dad used to take us out to a lake – very nice – but I wasn't too good at the tenting thing, but anyway, one year there was this other family staying there. There was this cute girl – Annie, I think her name was. We spent a lot of time reading together but we never got to the kissing stage because I had this one bad experience in Algebra club – "

"Where you caught mono," chorused three bored individuals.

Rodney scowled, though in the poor lighting from a tiny torch pilfered from his BDU no one had to suffer much of it. "Fine, but what I meant was...this is a dark cave and we don't even know what lives here but judging by the smell – which I'm sure seems normal to the resident caveman – it's not something we want to hang around for."

The resident caveman dropped a heavy hand over the light, masking it completely. Ronon leaned in and suggested in a growl, "You can go out to the Wraith if you don't like it."

Silence enjoyed a brief reign.

"I'm more worried about what they're doing here," Elizabeth mused. "They can't have spotted us, or we'd be captured by now."

Ford made an off-hand grunt from his position on the other side of a boulder. He hadn't spoken much, though once the thin beam of light had fallen across him to reveal him wetting his lips with a trembling tongue. Carson had moved beside him, but did not appear to need to render aid.

"Aye, I can think of too many lovely things they have planned," the CMO muttered, keeping a firm grip on Meredith who sat beside him.

"I feel so useless," Elizabeth said more to herself. "We don't even know if the 'gate is free or if they'll find our camp..."

"Can't just hang around here," Ronon said. "I'd rather take a stun blast to the face than listen to another of McKay's stories."

Rodney McKay, having had his fair share of aforementioned stun blasts, crossed his arms and tipped his head to one side and spitted Ronon with his best snark attack expression. After a few seconds, it sunk in that A) no one could see any face in the dark and B) Rodney really didn't want the Satedan to be privy to that particular story. He chose to stare impassively ahead.

Ford flashed up his own light into their faces as he stood. He stuck a finger in his mouth then held it up in the air, one eye closed. After a moment, he pointed down one end of the tunnel. "Yeah, I'd rather head to where the air is coming from than stay here."

Elizabeth pressed the tips of her fingers together and bounced her hands in her lap. Her concentration had taken a dive with the arrival of those dreaded ships shooting overhead and she'd lost even more of what focus she might have had while running over tree trunks before she plunged into a cave that no one had the time to search in for creepy crawlies.

"Alright, let's go," she said and left it at that.

"Wait, wait, aren't we going to take a vote?" Rodney demanded.

Ronon slapped his shoulder. "Three out of five. Let's go."

A beautific smile rendered itself across the scientist's face. "I count two Merediths, so my vote counts for two and I say we stay here instead of running out to meet our impending doom."

"I thought ye didnae like wee spaces like this," Carson said suspiciously, making sure he positioned his body to block the big grin Meredith suddenly sported.

"Slowly closing-in walls, lack of oxygen, dehydration and dwindling sustenance versus misplacing my head and limbs, but only if I'm lucky that they don't want to take the best years of my life?"

"Rodney, your vanity is the least of our problems," Elizabeth said, striding over to stand above him. "And I cannot let you stay here."

Ronon added to the effect, his height bringing him up near the top of the cave. The movement dislodged the torch from the Satedan's grasp and light shone over Rodney's upturned face and the deepening lines around his mouth. Elizabeth held out a hand. He took it.

Meredith's smile opened into the beginnings of a laugh, so Carson quickly distracted his lass by lifting her up quickly to nestle against him.

"Da," she mumbled into his ear to get his attention.

His eyes followed hers to where Rodney was sulking off to one side, clearly visible as Ford drew crazy lines around him on the cave wall with his flashlight.

"Aye," Carson agreed. "Daft buggers."

He wondered if his daughter also saw Elizabeth's smile quickly slip behind a pinched expression. Guessing that stranger things had happened, and knowing Nena would laugh at him about it later, Carson sent his own chuckle into the beyond. Ronon pushed by him and commented quietly, "He hasn't nailed it yet."

Carson choked.

"Do ye suppose he knows the meaning of that?" he asked his daughter in concern.

Meredith smiled into his neck.

Following the pinprick of light that Aiden flicked around the tunnel ahead, all of them traipsed into the unknown.

* * *

_1415_

_A corridor on the South Pier_

_Atlantis_

Radek Zelenka knew his days were numbered. Any human does – or at least one who does not intend to get pointy canines installed sometime in the near future. A black garbage bag containing all sorts of caffeinated delights was wildly bobbing over his shoulder as he raced after his two compatriots in an attempt to escape the Wrath of Cadman. At least they had managed to retain their socks – Radek was down to the soles of his feet and he rather wished he wasn't wondering where his own socks had gone.

Bates froze and held up a hand. Lorne skidded a few steps ahead, throwing back a raised eyebrow. Grateful for the break, Radek threw down the bag and grumbled, "I feel a little like a less fortunate Svatý Mikuláš."

"Who?" Evan enquired.

"He means Santa Claus," Bates explained curtly, swivelling his head in each possible direction. "We need to split up. Most of the stash is dealt with anyway but no one wants to be caught holding the bag when Cadman shows up."

"Or Colonel Sheppard..." Zelenka realised, remembering the mad slide through the main thoroughfare.

Evan Lorne, leaning against the wall and lacking any moisture across his forehead, chuckled. Unhurriedly stepping on the toes of each sock so he could yank each foot free, he then tossed the pair into an undignified pile not too far from Zelenka.

"And your point is...?" invited Sgt. Bates on Radek's behalf, as the Czech was staring down at the articles of clothing with a mixture of blank acceptance and annoyed disbelief.

"Sheppard's like one of the guys," Lorne said with grin. "He'll get it. Besides, even if he had half the know-how of Doctor Weir, he still wouldn't find out what's going on."

An eery harmony quavered through the air, making all three men stare down the corridor apprehensively. Seconds passed before someone, who shall remain nameless, instantly recognised it as one highly popular contribution to music by a boy band.

Zelenka quietly scooped up his sack of goodies and began inching further down the hall. Lorne tilted his head at him questioningly. The scientist tightly held his eyes on the distant patch of light that escaped through a window down the corridor, and those same eyes widened when a shadow blurred into an outline.

"Hello, boys!" called Laura Cadman.

"Oh shit!" Bates exclaimed and turned around to find that he was several metres behind Zelenka and Lorne in the retreat. "Scatter! SCATTER!"

They scattered.

* * *

_1430_

_Outside a transporter_

_South Pier_

"Lieutenant Cadman, please check in," John ordered into the mouthpiece that curved around his jaw.

He thought it would be helpful to use a headset instead of a handheld radio, but so far it had only made him look like one of those child Jango clones. And Cadman hadn't given him any kind of response, which made him feel like he was addressing thin air, except for the fact that beside him were the seemingly unconcerned pair of women who gave him the most trouble in his life.

Nena pressed a hand over a nearby panel, muttered under her breath and stepped back as it spat out a shiny chrome device. She held it out to John. "This will help us listen to their conversations."

"Is that going to help?" John asked dubiously, twisting aside his mouthpiece.

Teyla played intermediary as she forced it into her CO's hand. She said flatly, "If Meredith is responsible for causing this, then perhaps she allowed those working with her some means of avoiding any of our transmissions."

"Cadman's in on it too?" John demanded.

Nena shook her head.

John glowered.

Laura Cadman rounded the corner and waved at them, quickly turning the gesture into a snappy salute. "I believe I can answer that myself, sir. This morning I got locked up near my room and then found my..." She paused, looking for the appropriate words – preferably not 'black market stash'. "...belongings had been misplaced. Since Zelenka has been sneaking around lately, I pegged him as the culprit. In fact, I'd just lost track of where he was going when you people showed up."

John Sheppard found his back against the wall with three women advancing on his previously secure position. Naturally, he panicked. Then he remembered that he was Head Honcho for a couple of days so this really shouldn't happen. His hand flipped back through his hair in an attempt for indifference and John injected a stiff posture to increase his presence.

"This has to stop," he said.

No one disagreed and, just as John was about to continue with a resounding pep talk, the Ancient communication deceive that had dipped into his palm like it belonged there gave a short burst of sound.

"Okay, Santa Claus, where the hell are you?" Bates' voice growled. "We've been waiting for ten minutes."

A pause, then Zelenka responded, "Ah well, slight problem. Lt. Cadman followed me."

"She caught you?" came Lorne's incredulous tones.

"Ne, not yet, but is only a matter of time! I need you to activate Meredith's back-up."

"We should probably warn Sheppard that we're cutting off the power."

"Lorne, shut up," Bates snapped back. "This is war. Santa, if we don't see you in five minutes, we'll move to a location that you won't find, much less be able to worm your way into. Power goes off in an hour."

Nena closed her eyes. All watched her. After a moment, John cleared his throat and the city's sentience smiled brightly towards him. "Meredith has used Radek's chess subroutine to reconfigure the power settings."

"Killer castling move," Laura said, more to herself.

Seizing the opportunity to sneak out through a gap of limbs belonging to his attackers, John paced briefly and flattened his hair down to his ears. He wished he had Elizabeth's desk for a barrier or at least her best stonewall expression. Whipping back around, he said, "Okay. Nena, can you change the settings?"

"No," Nena answered, frustration falling across her face. "It is an ingenious program, for a human."

"Perhaps Doctor Zelenka can be convinced to deactivate it permanently," Teyla suggested.

Laura twisted her fingers together and various knuckles cracked. "And by 'convinced', I'm hoping you mean something a little more fun than chasing him around the South Pier."

"Aggressive negotiations," John advocated. "Nena, can you pull sound bites of Bates and make up some sort of message for Zelenka to follow?"

"Ooh, I haven't tried that yet."

"That's a yes then. Cadman, take out Zelenka."

"Yes, sir."

Teyla crossed her arms and waited.

John did not disappoint. "Teyla, you're with me. I don't know how just yet, but we need to figure out where Bates and Lorne are holed up."

"Does this require asking personnel questions they'd rather avoid?"

"Sure."

"I believe we should begin with the gate technicians."

Most corridors of Atlantis are lit enough to blind any unsuspecting soul awakening without coffee to find that they are due to report in and have yet to locate their shirt. So, of course, John was suddenly wary as shadows formed in the nooks of his team mate's smile.

"Er, Teyla, this isn't that much of a big deal," John reminded her.

Teyla curled her arm around his and continued to smile in that scary way as she pulled him into the transporter.

* * *

_1500_

_Sekrit Wraith lab_

_M4B-1313_

Pure accident can be construed as fate – or as one of those little ironies involved in the action of trying to move further away from space vampires but instead ending up heading towards them. The irony was not lost on Elizabeth Weir, whose tenuous position as off-world team leader meant that her judgement was supposed to result in everyone finding their way back home in time for dinner...preferably in one piece. Or two, maybe.

Pure dismay was Elizabeth's feeling of choice when the tunnel climbed up into a cavern that seemed to throb and roll like green muck, thanks to the twisted lantern-esque lights struck up and down the walls, tucked around screens crawling with Wraith text. A table or so, made of a gnarled material that probably had ended its life in pain, took up the rest of the space against the rock forming the structure.

"Because this isn't creepy at all," Ford said and everyone skirted their gazes about the place uncertainly.

Well, everyone except Ronon who deliberately leaned against the side and idly flicked one of the lights with his fingernails.

"What are we looking at?" Elizabeth asked.

"Something none too pleasant, I'd wager if I did sech things," Carson murmured, stroking his hand against Meredith's back.

"It's a lab," Rodney deduced. "Whatever they're making here is causing problems downstream."

"Like sewage in the water?" Aiden ventured.

Ronon shrugged, tipping his head forward to obscure his true expression. "There are worse things."

Pondering this for a moment, Elizabeth sighed. But then she studied the Satedan's hunching profile and realised he was very right on that account. She couldn't begin to imagine those 'worse things'. Her lips tightened back into her cheeks to hide her smile when she wondered if being trapped in a Puddlejumper with Rodney was worse than an environmental disaster.

"I'm not disagreeing," she said at last, "but it would help if we knew what we were up against."

"Too bad my Wraith's a little rusty," Rodney tossed out around the cavern as if it was everyone else's fault that the syntax of the Wraith language still escaped him.

When the scientist passed by his namesake, Meredith reached out and swatted his shoulder. They shared another of their secret smiles and both turned up expectantly to Carson.

"Oh I see," Beckett muttered. "Will ye at least hold yer goddaughter while I attempt to soothe yer anxiety?"

Ford snorted. "Good luck, doc."

"A gun would work better," Ronon observed.

"Uh, how's that?" Ford asked.

"McKay has less trouble remembering stuff if someone points a gun in his face."

"His sense of direction kind of declines though."

"Who wants him to find his way back?"

Both men suddenly seemed to realise their companionable exchange and glared at each other.

Meanwhile, Carson Beckett – not a lab rat, thank you very much – watched as his daughter settled herself along Rodney's arm and held herself up to get a good look around. Rodney pointed towards Ford and Ronon and whispered into Meredith's ear. Elizabeth shook her head. Rodney pointed at her instead, but added a grin.

Throwing his eyes to the dirty top of the cavern, Carson tore them back down again to inspect the Wraith...computer, if it was called that. Interface, perhaps. His own Wraith had been shocking prior to his coronation, but ever since then his mind had absorbed so much unusual data from the systems he'd barely noticed it when he'd become fluent.

The screen, which was more of a swamp green skin stretched from top to bottom of the side of the cavern, gave with his fingers until his nails disappeared. Tingles swirled around the pads of his fingers, itching, tickling, drowning...Carson withdrew quickly.

"I can't," he said quietly.

"Can't what? Concentrate? Have you tried deep breaths?" Rodney supplied, staring at the screen impatiently.

"No, Rodney. It might...do ye remember the virus?"

"We all remember that," Ford said, then tipped a smirk at Ronon. "Well, most of us."

Ronon ran his nails over the blade hanging from his hip, apparently sharpening them. Ford snorted.

"I donae want to endanger any of ye, especially my lass," Carson explained, cheeks hollowing.

Rodney wrapped his other arm around Meredith and hugged her to him. "I...I didn't think of that. But they're not expecting us here, so it should be fine. I mean, if it's not fine then why aren't there any guards?"

"There will be some if we continue to discuss this," Elizabeth pointed out.

Carson stabbed his fingers back into the interface. The Wraith letters flickered, fought and then floundered away into Ancient then English, all at the command of the king of the Atlantis. Rodney drifted forwards and poured over the details arrayed before him. He muttered an commentary aside to his very young student until he swung around to address the others.

"Silicon wafers," Rodney said. "They're experimenting with silicon wafers, which are the basis of semiconductors, but this kind of science isn't exactly Wraith-y. They tend to be a little more organic with their base codes."

"I am kind of hungry," Ronon noted.

"No, what – " Rodney stopped and glanced sideways at him. "This is about waffles isn't it? I knew there had to be a reason I couldn't digest your cooking."

"He probably doesn't evaporate the pot dry like some people," Ford remarked.

The scientist's face collapsed back on itself and a grimace was constructed in its place. Rodney defended, "It was that one time and I had more important things to deal with."

"Aye," Carson said, voice tinged with distant strain. "Because the only thing more important than food is some sort of scientific breakthrough."

Elizabeth surveyed them for a moment and allowed a deep breath. Her chest loosened as her heart stopped racing around looking for an escape hatch. Her eyes caught Meredith's, and Elizabeth saw that same calmness there. Elizabeth stretched her neck and struck her voice forward. "Rodney, I'm sure there's an explanation you're dying to deliver in your unique way."

He blinked. "Right. Yes. Computer technology, to be simple."

"Was that so hard?" Elizabeth prompted when he fell silent.

"No. What's hard is trying to explain quantum physics to a chimp and expecting it to form even the slightest coherent sentence."

Ford held up a hand. "Does this actually have anything to do with QP?"

"...ah," Rodney rejoined after a brief bewildered pause. "Acronyms have to actually be accepted by the general populace before you can start ascribing meaning to them."

Elizabeth tapped her temples with thumb and forefinger. "Rodney, Lefevre's contribution to linguistics always gives me a headache."

"You, get a headache off that kind of thing?" Ford asked incredulously.

"Only when Rodney starts talking about it."

Seemingly oblivious, the Head of Science skimmed his fingers over the Wraith screen and tried to dig into the material. Failure didn't exactly happen, because no one knew that he'd been trying to do. Meredith hmmed near his right ear and Rodney pinched his eyes in response. Okay, almost no one.

"Then no," he announced.

"No what?" Ford demanded.

"This is nowhere near advanced enough to run off your QP." Rodney pitted the last two syllables out off his tongue. "This schematic is for a device that is no better than one of our computers except that it – "

"They're building a weapon," Carson said flatly.

Shifting awkwardly, Rodney attempted to pass back Meredith to her father, but Carson turned away. The scientist opted for levity. "Who are you? The class TP?"

"No, he'd need an apple for that acronym," Ford chortled.

Khaki hues rained over Carson's face as he stared against the cavern wall, though his friends could only see the tightening muscles in his shoulders. Elizabeth moved over and pressed five fingerprints against his back. "Are you alright, Carson?"

"No I'm bloody not!" he snapped, spinning back to them. "This is a weapon to... I'm sure how how to describe it. Rodney?"

Managing to hold his goddaughter and gesture elaborately with his other hand, Rodney supplied, "Bonding. Your DNA is electrically fused into the systems. Those bonds would be rendered inert by this device."

"You'd be cut off from Nena," Elizabeth realised.

"That's if you're lucky," Rodney said. "Your genetic sequence has been changed permanently. You might even die."

Meredith showed exactly what she thought of everyone's horrified faces (and again, Ronon does not count in this generalisation – the Satedan looked interested, in fact) by holding up a finger and burying it into her godfather's ear. Rodney yelped and Ford quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, telling him to shut it with as few expletives as possible.

Carson slumped against the nearest table, the anger on his face dissolving into resignation. "Oh God. How far are they along?"

"Getting a little too close," Aiden conceded, walking over to palm an object beside the CMO.

Holding it out, Ford began a grim silence as all eyes took in the sight of what resembled melted Replicator blocks – to broad intense relief, they weren't exactly what they appeared to be. Wraith and Replicators in one day might indeed spoil the next.

Meredith gave a quick cry of alarm and her father stood up. Ronon leapt off the wall and flicked out his gun.

"That's not all that's getting too close," Ronon said in a small, but vibrating growl.

A gust of wind swept past as Carson Beckett bolted down the tunnel towards the echoes of feet, doom and an alien dialect.

"Did he just do that?" Ford boggled.

He was flattened against the cavern as Ronon bowled past, tracking Carson's path but not before he shouted back, "Get going!"

"We should...we should probably follow," Rodney said uncertainly while Meredith stared at the hole in the room where her father had been.

Elizabeth also stared, one side of her lips more deeply turned downwards than the other. Her gaze fell to the uneven dirt ground and then rose up again as her eyes followed the deep impressions of two sets of feet.

"No," she said. "We need to go."

Ford shook his head fiercely. "I'm not leaving them behind."

"I will not stand here, with a _child_ no less, waiting for the Wraith to find us. Ronon will bring Carson back but for now...we're leaving!"

Dutifully, Rodney, Meredith and Aiden obeyed the command.

Elizabeth waved them ahead, pausing just long enough to aim one last look after her two missing team mates before she left.

* * *

_1501_

_Control room_

_Atlantis_

"Ruuuuuh, ruuuuuaah," intoned Chuck under his breath in his best impression of a car alarm, then he added, "Red alert. Colonel Sheppard on deck."

A Peter Grodin-shaped shadow eclipsed Chuck as the English technician rolled past, swinging the seat of his chair around to tuck himself under the control bench. Both men began half-pressing buttons and threw a few pensive looks behind to the large screen for good measure. Grodin tapped out the first few notes of Fur Elise with the smaller fingers of his left hand over a console.

Chuck slapped Peter's hand. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing then?" Grodin demanded.

"That's a good question," John said, pulling into the space between them in his own wheely chair.

Chuck sprang for freedom. Years of burning muscles and bullet holes gave John the advantage as he invoked full leadership control by locking a hand around Chuck's arm. John's chair skidded in the attempt, but it was a success. He missed Grodin who dropped to the floor and rolled to the other side of the control room where he began his own leap for the door.

Blocking his escape was Teyla Emmagan, late of Athos. She presented a blank face, tinged with "where are you going?" before snapping her palm under his chin. The English technician back-pedalled then tried again, which was to be his undoing. Teyla flattened to the floor and spun in the same breath, chopping him down just below the knees. Grodin contemplated the ceiling for a second or two before he started to worry about his vertebras.

Chuck buried his feet in the floor but it merely slowed the roll across to his partner. Nodding at Teyla, John grinned when she responded by planting a standard issue boot across Grodin's ribcage.

"Now you're probably wondering..." John began slowly. "...why you didn't tell me any of this earlier. I can forget that with a little time. What I need to know is where you get your goods from, because I take it you're not the biggest fans of Cadman. I'm guessing your main supplier is Zelenka, am I right?"

Grodin meeped. Chuck smiled anxiously.

"Role playing discount?" the Canadian offered.

"Was that a bribe?" John asked Teyla.

His team mate bent her knee and pushed it forward with both hands, affecting a thoughtful pose while Grodin wheezed under the extra pressure. Teyla said calmly, "It is possible that Campbell is merely telling us why his preference lay with Dr Zelenka."

"Yes, that!" Chuck added.

Grodin sighed. "Yes, why not reveal everything as soon as we're asked?"

"Lorne's in on it too!" Chuck exclaimed.

Bringing over his abandoned chair, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard straddled it backwards and manoeuvred his four wheels between the pair. He began carefully, adding weight to each new syllable, "What we have is a situation. What I need is your cooperation."

"What is the location where your last...purchase occurred?" Teyla prompted.

"Would you care for a jelly baby?" Grodin fired back haughtily before losing a gasp of air that Teyla drew out by tipping her toes between two ribs.

Chuck's bottom teeth nipped up onto his top lip and dragged back down again. He threw his hands to the nape of his neck and his fingers scribbled through his spiky but carefully kept hair. Few people were privy to touching Chuck's hair, but those who did commented that it was softer than the hair on a baby. This was probably why very few ever got close enough to discover this for themselves. Chuck thought he had an image to uphold.

Except in circumstances such as this.

"Did you ask Zelenka?" he managed.

"Of course they did!" Peter groaned. "And if Major Lorne and Sergeant Bates were aware of Radek's capture, then they would move to the...the...a place the supplier might not be aware of. Yes. Or not, because this is just conjecture, Colonel." He coughed. "And uh, Miss Emmagan." He coughed again. "Teyla, then, is it?"

Teyla and John shared a loaded glance. Chuck and Peter avoided looking at anyone.

"Haven't you asked Nena to sense them?" Peter muttered desperately.

John swiftly nodded. "Uh, it's one of those non-sensing parts of the city. There are...a few of those."

His team mate cocked an eyebrow at him and John could have sworn he heard her voice. _Is that so?_

_I was getting around to asking Nena_, he defended by tipping his head to one side and throwing up his best flyboy smile.

Teyla smiled back. _If that is how you wish to remember it._

_I'm probably right though._

"All we require is a location," Teyla said out loud, then ticked one side of her lips higher which made her CO wonder if she really hadn't just teased him inside his own head.

"And Chuck here has volunteered to come with us and point it out," John said.

Grodin smiled in relief to whichever gods resided in the sky of whatever this planet was called.

"As for Grodin..." John began.

Silence.

John stood up, kicking his chair back towards the console. "Teyla can decide that."

* * *

_1509_

_Wraith laboratory_

_M4B-1313_

A fork in the tunnel had sent Carson Beckett careening down the left, because it seemed to be the thing to do. But his blurring footfalls had not allowed logic to stop him long enough to listen carefully to the echoes. Luckily for him, his tracker was one part instinct and one part common sense. Not so luckily, or so Carson thought, was that despite his brain cells being zapped into a whole new level of advanced, he still had no way of avoiding the tackle that Ronon performed to slam him against the wall, halting his progress.

Ronon Dex retracted his hands, while his chipped eyes darted around the very enclosed and very dead end that they found themselves in. Aside from an interface and a few bone fragments in one rounded not-quite corner, there was a distant lack of defensible areas. Ronon growled.

"I wonnae let them!" Carson babbled, sliding along the wall away from him. "I need ta take care of this. You wouldna understand."

"They killed my wife!" Ronon bellowed.

Beckett halted in his retreat and sank to the ground, blue eyes engaging into twin gaping Stargates. "Lad, I...Ronon...I didnae know."

"Now you do," Dex said lowly. H struck out a hand. "Still want to get yourself killed, Beckett? Your wife will get lonely."

When Carson extended his arm to accept the offer of help, he fumbled as Ronon grasped his wrist intead of his hand as he'd expected. The dirt under Carson's ankles tipped as he was levered up. He tried again. "But they have this weapon..."

"You want to beat up some Wraith? I can understand that. We'll have to do it now because they're probably blocking our exit."

"Oh lovely," Carson murmured.

Ronon smirked. "C'mon, Beckett. You need to get your hands dirty sometime."

"Have I ever told you about the time I electrocuted a Wraith?"

"Want to show me instead?" suggested Ronon, whose hard eyes warned that no praises would be granted unless it actually worked.

"Sounds like a plan."

In truth, Carson didn't know if his abilities extended far from his home. But the voice of Rodney McKay slinging along his synapses suggested that if a virus could affect him in an off-world situation, then shouldn't he run a personal trial?

Ronon's shoulders, seemingly set apart by a metre of solid muscle (thought rationally, Carson knew it could no more be a metre than Rodney's cooking skills could be called a success), hunkered down as the Satedan prepared his charge. The king of Atlantis copied the stance, though he glanced anxiously about, expecting the attack to come from any which way.

"Stay close," warned Ronon.

"Aye," Carson agreed, but inched towards a nearby Wraith interface.

His companion noticed, nodded, and positioned himself further in front.

The first three Wraith marched into view. Blue blasts curved through the air to smack against the cave walls; the power settings must have been adjusted a little higher because chips skittered away from the rock and soil they had been loyal to for millennia. A ball of itchy red light hurtled back in response, burrowing into the chest of one drone and sending it into a thrashing puddle of limbs and snarls.

Ronon continued to fire with his left hand as he strode forward. Bodies and the still able-bodied crowded through the minute entrance, seeming to respond in frame-by-frame mode as Dex whipped out his blade with his other hand and slipped it from one victim to the next. Awed, Carson watched with distraction until the Satedan began to fall back.

His back to the interface, Carson felt his way behind and plunged ten digits on, into, _through _the components. Murky text and equations slimed up before his eyes and he choked on air for a few seconds as the alien technology encased him.

"Duck!" shouted Carson.

Ronon dived to the floor, looking up to catch the bright green dancing through the doctor's eyes just before Carson also joined him. The interface shook, expanded, debated whether or not it was safer to remain where it was, then exploded. Barbs of electricity shuddered out like ripples in every direction, but on one level – conveniently the height of the drones' upper torsos.

Both men stared as the Wraith shook violently in place. They winced as the scent of freshly singed skin wended through the air, more foul and astute than human flesh had ever been in their memories.

"I get it now," Ronon said aside.

Carson blinked. "Get what, lad?"

"I get why she nailed you," chortled his companion before tunnelling forward on his hands and knees.

Laughing hard enough to form of a crater in the dirt in front of him, the king of Atlantis poised on all fours before he weaved past frying corpses and arcing light to follow Ronon.

* * *

_1515_

_South Pier_

_Atlantis_

Four metal legs bounced, squealed and stilled. Not content with this, Laura Cadman grabbed the back of the chair by both sides with a clenched grip and threw her captive backwards. The short gap between chair and wall ripped the abortive swear word from Zelenka's throat. He considered himself lucky that he had been cowering forward enough to miss striking the back of his skull against very durable Lantean metal and plexiglass.

"Of course they would not come for me, of course," Radek spat. "How unwise of me to believe I was speaking to a human being!"

"If I was a human, then that wouldn't be a very nice thing to say," Nena said, pouting over Laura's shoulder at him.

Zelenka scowled. He had almost escaped their little trap, but Cadman had distracted his dash with a well-timed shout of 'Run, rabbit, run run run!' – or something very much like it. Whatever the evil spell had been, his face still smarted from where it met a closed door which he was very sure had never been a door before in the history of Atlantis.

"I will not discuss this," Radek said and looked to the side, inspecting the rim around the nearest window.

The scenery abruptly shifted into the form of Nena who flashed between the window and the Czech in the briefest of milliseconds. Clicking noises indicated her attempt to tsk, though Zelenka didn't want to mention that she should keep her tongue inside her mouth. Nena said with increasing volume, "To _human beings_ such as yourself, I am sure my daughter must seem highly advanced. She is not. Yet. Her attachment to you and her attempts to solve your situation are sweet – very sweet! But the leader of this city is Doctor Elizabeth Weir. Not my Meredith. And especially not you, Radek. Your battles must be fought as an adult! Please tell us how to disengage all of Meredith's protocols and I'd be very happy if you blocked her with the subroutine until she is of an age to understand this."

"And believe me, Zelenka, we _do_ have ways of making you talk," Laura added with a leer.

"She ruined my life!" Radek hurled at the now vacant window, which quietly glowed with the last bursts of serious sunshine.

Rolling his head back around, he stared levelly at both of them. Laura shrugged, beginning to turn until Nena pinched her elbow and nodded meaningfully at their victim. Nena reminded her, "You are part of this. I am sure this would make Elizabeth very cranky if she heard about it."

"I am sorry," Radek murmured.

"Ditto," Laura agreed.

"I may not know much about humans, but a compromise is universal, is it not?"

Scientist and marine eyed each other skeptically. Beaming at them, Nena tapped the side of her head, mimicking the common headset gesture, and announced, "Radek is being such a help."

"Good to hear that," responded a very terse John. "Get everyone back to the transporter."

"Okay!" sang back Nena.

* * *

_1516_

_Thickly wooded forest_

_M4B-1313_

Dusty royal blue shades covered the planet as the star dived into the horizon earlier than on Atlantis. This would have been fine for cover, except that wherever no tree was – say, the clearing around the cave where Rodney, Meredith, Elizabeth and Aiden waited – there were instead seas of grass that bloomed silver the instant nighttime touched them.

Rodney hid behind a rock with his goddaughter. Aiden lurked around the perimeter of trees. Elizabeth zipped her fingers together and swung her hands awkwardly, passing the time. She kept to the trees as well, but stayed a good deal further out after one of the trees started braying at her. Sneaking a look to her watch, and finding that the light display was unhelpfully dead, Elizabeth Weir uncrossed her arms and strode out into the light, ready to spout a few words.

"M'am, either we wait here or we go back in and get them," former Lt. Aiden Ford said quickly before she could even begin.

"I'm not saying we should leave them," Elizabeth fenced.

A high pitched vocal complaint made her swing around to glare at trees briefly. A moment later, Rodney leapt up from his hidey hole, jostling Meredith uneasily from arm to arm as she sobbed. When Elizabeth caught his eyes with her own, she knew her inaudible gasp of horror was clear as day in the silver sheen ghosting over her face. Rodney hurriedly deposited Meredith with his boss and snatched the gun off his leg holster. He held out his other hand and snapped it at Ford. "Weapon. You'll have one, won't you, even though you're not supposed to."

"Yeah, I'm packing. Why the interest?"

"I am a godfather, therefore it is kind of my responsibility to protect my goddaughter when Carson isn't here," Rodney burst out. "And in, oh say, 10 seconds we're going to have a few unwelcome guests from our past."

Ford rolled one good eye. "Okay, fine, McKay. Dr Weir, it'd probably be a good idea to find some cover."

Elizabeth did just that and was briefly frustrated when her young charge grizzled at the change of guardian. She didn't have enough time to feel the entire brunt of being put out because 9.382 seconds later, two humanoids emerged from the cave and threw themselves on the ground as though an explosion had blown them out.

Yelling incomprehensibly, Rodney kept both eyes open as he fired each singular shot into what could only be described as a nightmare stream of opponents...well, the number wasn't important so much as the stress level, correct? His firing partner had better luck with a small semi-automatic that could not have slipped into any cavities that Elizabeth would have thought to check; she watched with a burgeoning smile. Meredith caught her mood and laughed.

"I told you they'd take care of it," Ronon declared, flinging himself up off his paws. He nodded at Ford. "Good work. Fast too."

Aiden shrugged modestly.

Carson jogged over to Rodney and cuffed his friend on the side of the shoulder, beaming. No words were spoken, but the worried scowl on the scientist's face dipped into a smug response quickly before wrinkling up again into Rodney's patented irritated expression. "Right, well you can all stay here chatting while the Wraith run after us, so I'm going to run this way to the 'gate." He pointed and sprinted.

"No arguments here," Elizabeth said. "Alright, keep up everyone."

She passed Meredith back to her father and took off after Rodney. Those under her command followed.

"I'm sorry yer first trip off-world was like this, lass," Carson panted as he tried to juggle strides over and around logs with the firm grip he was maintaining on his daughter. "Ye'll never want to go through the damn Stargate again. It's bloody insanity."

Meredith was too busy humming to pay him much mind.

* * *

_1524_

_Opposite the mess hall_

_Atlantis_

A growing crowd of military, civilians, scientists, gate technicians and other assorted beings ambled about in front of a locked storage closet. Some had been directly seeking the last stand of Sergeant Donald Bates and Major Evan Lorne, but most were curiously drawn to the gathering on their exit or entrance to the mess hall in search of, predominantly, coffee.

Colonel Sheppard did not deliver an order to disperse, not because he was a Cool Guy, but because he didn't want to make it into an even bigger deal than it was. Steel hand gripped around Chuck's left biceps and triceps, John refused to let his guide vanish even though they had – apparently – reached their destination.

"I thought you saw everything, no?" Zelenka asked Nena, indicating the closet.

"Your subroutine diverted my attention," Nena explained patiently, though the pixels forming her green eyes flickered orange, which made the scientist swallow. "I see most things anyway, but there's a rather sizable gap in my sensors in some places because of last year's storm which I notice had left a mess that no one bothered to clean up."

Sheppard turned a scowl over his shoulder. "We've kind of had other things to worry about. And Carson hasn't exactly said anything."

Chuck nodded emphatically as John's fingers dug in further.

"John," Teyla said reprovingly. Limbs retracted and the crowd parted to let the Athosian through and she seated a hand on John's back. Dipping her head towards Nena, Teyla continued firmly, "Acknowledge the existing problem, as it is under your current duties and responsibilities."

John sighed, collecting himself. "Nena, I'm sorry about the mess and I'm sorry I wasn't in charge – or even aware of the problem – at the time. I'll fix it."

"That's so not nailed," Laura Cadman noted to several on-lookers, who tittered on cue.

The only one of the team who heard was Zelenka, who frowned over the rim of his glasses at her. "You have been speaking to Ronon."

"Yep," Laura said cheerfully. "So who or what have you nailed lately?"

Radek grinned down at the floor and his head jiggled with glee. The Lieutenant's mouth snapped open, before sealing up into a wide smile. She snatched her competitor's hand, curled his fingers over and bumped his fist with hers. Bewildered, the Czech let his hand fall loose, but he had no qualms about the handshake that Laura proceeded to give him. This could indeed be the start of beautiful partnership...and party. Preferably soon.

"Your plan," Teyla prompted John.

"I don't want to be using stunners or anything else, because that's a little extreme."

Laura stepped forward with her suggestion. "Hand-to-hand, sir?"

"Grudge match!" shouted someone in the corridor. It echoed in whispers.

Shooting a glare around at those under his command, John was momentarily pleased when gazes were cowed and voices stilled. Teyla interrupted his glory, "I assume you will be happy to delegate this activity?"

"This is not a one-man job," John decided, grinning.

"I think I will go...eat something," Chuck mumbled and slipped from John's distracted grasp.

Nena pressed a hand to the door and nodded at John.

He nodded back.

The door whooshed open, revealing Bates, Lorne and a truly epic stash of stimulants, relaxants and other unmentionables. Bates had torn out a panel and was already shuffling crystals.

"Sir," Bates began testily and got no further.

Several bodies slammed into the storage closet and Colonel John Sheppard was proud to admit (though certainly not to Elizabeth later) that he spearheaded the attack. The black eye that showed up two days later, delivered by Lorne's elbow gouging up at him after the Major had been pressed to the ground, was totally worth it.

* * *

_1545_

_Gateroom_

_Atlantis_

When the hot and panting holiday-makers splashed out of the Stargate, John was waiting at the foot of the stairs with Nena. After several tense minutes of listening to a radio transmission of gunfire, swearing and lectures on swearing in front of children, the time had come to welcome back the off-world party.

John held up a hand in reserved greeting, though Nena chose to throw her arms around her husband and daughter. The three of them had a quiet reunion off to one side.

"Colonel Sheppard, would you care to explain?" Elizabeth demanded.

Wincing as he glanced back around to see various members of the expedition looking like they'd been crammed into a blender, John forced a vague smile. "Uh, not really. But how about you guys – you're back early. What happened?"

"Just a secret Wraith lab with a new weapon," Elizabeth replied wearily. "Will you be wanting that report soon, Colonel?"

John coughed out a laugh. "Nah, Elizabeth, this job's all yours. It's not what I thought it would be."

"I know exactly what you mean."

Meanwhile, Rodney edged away from Ronon and Aiden who were both sending evil grins in his direction.

* * *

**~ Not Quite A Week Later ~**

_0630_

_A balcony_

_God-knows-where_

Major Evan Lorne had woken on better days, but this one was rather exceptional if the red glow on his eyelids was any indication. A breeze trailed over his skin, but he was insulated against the chill of the cooler currents flowing around Atlantis by a rather outstanding sunshine. He sent a hand out searching for the alarm clock to pull it in front of his face. A tangle of hair cut into his skin.

Lorne's eyes shot open. In two seconds, he realised that A) he had slept out on a balcony, B) he seemed to be almost but not entirely nude, C) the same could be said of Lieutenant Cadman lying beside him and D) – wait WHAT?

"Well that's different," he muttered.

He flattened his hand and gingerly picked off the strawberry blonde strands with his other fingers. Laura did not stir, but Evan inched his way back inside, casting an eye around for his clothes. Actually, he couldn't remember bringing clothes, but then again he couldn't even remember how the hell this happened. Something about a...party?

He frowned because A) he'd torn the frat regs to pieces, B) there was no way he'd have ended up in such a position with _Laura Cadman _of all people, C) WHY didn't he remember anything and D) –

"Meredith!" he whispered loudly. "Where am I?"

No answer. Evan gulped. The silence was probably due to Meredith finally sleeping or being successfully reigned in by a subroutine, but it really didn't help.

He hesitated long enough to smile in bemusement at the woman sleeping on the balcony before escaping.

* * *

_0830_

_Gateroom_

_Atlantis_

"Are you sure you don't want to hang around a bit?" John Sheppard asked lightly. "Get some rays, catch the latest football video they sent over..."

Aide's chin slipped down a bit, but he smiled. "I think I'm going to catch the next one live. Keep them out of trouble," he directed at Ronon.

Ronon slowly grinned. "Shouldn't be too hard to do with you out of the galaxy."

Seeing Rodney awkwardly shift his feet, Ford snorted and clapped him on the shoulder. The scientist started. "What was that for?"

"Why not? I like you enough not to flatten you. And besides, you've given me enough comic relief to last a year."

"About that..." Rodney paused, glancing briefly to Teyla who nodded back at him. "I'm not one for the Sheppard one-liners, so...so..."

He handed over a plastic eyepatch that had probably begun its life as part of a child's Halloween costume. Rodney in fact knew exactly where it come from – Zelenka had never been as broad minded as Laura Cadman when it came to exotic goods, so to speak.

Ford slipped it over his head and nodded. "Thanks, McKay."

"Don't – don't mention it."

Three figures burst into existence with a shower of white sparks. Judging by the wince of Carson's face, it was probably due to Meredith who gave everyone her best blank smile.

"You only just came back and you're off again!" Nena exclaimed.

Ford readjusted the bag slung over his shoulder to shrug. "That's just how it goes. I'll see if I can visit, but it probably won't happen."

"Goodbye, lad," Carson said. "I'm sure we'll see that face of yers again."

Meredith waved a hand. Aiden waved back.

"Respect your parents," he said seriously. "'Coz no one else here does."

"Oh get on with ye!"

Aiden snapped a salute to John, then threw one up to the control room where Elizabeth was watching. He kept his straight face long enough to say, "Hurts like hell, guys..."

With a wild whoop, the Lieutenant hurled himself backwards through the event horizon.

Farewells are never easy, but as the 'gate deactivated and the wormhole's blue glow rescinded, Carson was struck with a sense of even greater finality. He stared up at the gate and wondered. Carson stole a look about his friends, then to his wife.

"I'm not going anywhere," Nena said quietly, as though sensing his thoughts, then added lightly, "I can't fly off with only one ZPM!"

"Do ye suppose we have enough time to reattempt Meredith's human education?"

"Carson...she already knows how to crawl. She was just playing with you."

Meredith absently blew bubbles from her lips.

"She's far too much like her mum," Carson grumbled.

* * *

Author's Note(s)

I'm sorry this took so long – and I'm also sorry that it _is _so long. It was all muddled in my head, so I'm not sure how it turned out. As a bonus, I present to you the very first draft of one of the cavern scenes:

_*wraith appear! Ohnoes!*_

Clearly, not all of my synapses were firing for that draft. Also, I find it very interesting that the spelling is "sound bite" and not "sound byte". I never knew that. :D

Now a quick hello to Seanait. Glad to see/read you again, especially since this was all your fault anyway!

Lastly, what's happening with this fic... there's one "story" left (possibly in 2 chapters) followed by an epilogue. Don't worry, this won't be the last checkett thing I write... ;)


	9. Oversight

AN: Timing is very sensitive with this one. It's after "Epiphany" and before "Critical Mass". This also means it is set before "The Scourge". Yes, I have robbed Woolsey of his off-world virginity a little early.

This chapter is dedicated to** The Queen of Confusion**, for lifting my spirits with her singular review.

* * *

Story 9 – Oversight

* * *

Dewy golden light streamed between Nena's fingers as she held out her hand. She enjoyed moving the shadow of her digits over her sleeping husband's face, even though she knew the sunrise and the resulting shadows were her own design, programmed to run five to six times a day in virtu-Atlantis. Sunrises were hard to get right, Nena's circuits always reasoned, but she admitted quietly to herself that she loved them so much that she liked to run a private show.

Half-curled beside her, eyes slackly closed and his lips slightly open, Carson Beckett was unknowingly benefitting from a sleep in. Nena trickled the outlines of her fingers down to the left corner of his lips, which was always lifted above the right, giving a permanent mischievous twinge to his smiles. His lack of symmetry, as with every other human, bemused Nena.

The tips of her fingers met skin. She grinned.

_Humans._ Her thoughts ghosted over and between components. _I have been around them for so little time, but it feels like eons. Am I becoming one? Is this a human thought?_

Nena could rewind the security systems far back enough to watch her first tentative steps towards this _feeling_. Back then, it had been so easy to ice up the walls of Atlantis without sparing a thought for the comfort or safety of those within the city. The telling off Carson had given her for that! Barely months later, she had told Bates and Zelenka that it was not in her nature to sit idly by while others suffered.

_It didn't take long, did it, my love? And, as I recall, it did not take you long to accept the chair's interface. We are not who we were._

Carson drew in a heavy breath and released it as a half-snore. Nibbling away the giggle poised on her lips, Nena flicked his hair gently – she liked it this way: ungelled and scruffy. Unable to resist any longer, Nena kissed her husband. A smile evolved beneath her lips. Then his blue eyes slowly opened.

"Hullo, love," he said.

"Hi Carsie-buns," she teased in response.

"Is the lass sleeping in, then?"

"Yep! Meredith is realising how gooood sleep can be."

Dr. Carson Beckett's smile tipped even further into the left side of his face. He idly ran his hand from her shoulder to her waist, tugging her closer to him. His next kiss was still drowsy, but his touch was certainly awake. Nena blinked innocently at him.

"I should get ta work," Carson murmured.

"You should."

"I'm meeting Ronon in a few minutes."

"You are."

"Damn it."

"Tonight?" Nena baited.

"Is that a promise, my darlin'?"

"Hmm what is that word you use..." Nena kissed his cheek. "Aye."

Gazing torturously at her, the king of Atlantis and very-much-in-demand CMO vanished in a single sweep of dazzling pixels. Nena lay flat on her back and giggled loudly. A few minutes later, armed with a still dozing child over her hip, Nena glanced quickly about and nodded to herself. Virtu-Atlantis fell away around her.

* * *

Doctor Elizabeth Weir should have been celebrating the quiet with a China Jasmine infusion in her mug. A quarter of an hour ago, the four most troublesome bipedal beings under her command had departed be on another planet entirely. This meant that they would be spending a day out of sight, out of mind and out from underneath the feet of Atlantis' new guest.

In forty or so minutes, she would be entertaining Richard Woolsey, thorn of many sides. The tea would have helped.

"I'm going to request a transfer, m'am," Major Lorne announced from the door.

Elizabeth balanced one finger on the rim of her empty mug. She raised her eyes to take in the tense, straight-spined marine who had planted his feet inside her office with all the ease and permanence of a strangler fig.

"You've made your intentions clear," she noted.

A very strange look swiped across Evan's face. "I don't think I did."

Elizabeth rested her forehead against a hand, watching him carefully. Members of the military rarely felt comfortable enough sitting with her in the mess hall, let alone coming to her with such half-baked statements. Noting the grey-purple shadows under his eyes, and the twitching biceps, Elizabeth decided that it was more likely a relationship problem.

"I suggest you sleep on it," she said, then caught the slightly gaping expression on his face. She quickly added, "On the idea, Major! What did you think I meant?"

Lorne's eyebrows dug down hard into his forehead. "Uh, m'am...this isn't exactly...something I wish to discuss with the chain of command."

_Ah._ So it was a frat reg issue. Elizabeth had heard tales of legend about that at the SGC. From what she knew of Lorne's file, he had been stationed there for long enough to hear those exact same rumours.

"I don't have time for this," she said frankly.

"I'm sorry."

"Am I the one you should be saying that to?"

A hopeful smile lit up Evan's face. He tossed a brisk, informal gesture near his brow and power-walked out into the control room. The headset lying next to Elizabeth's mug crackled with authority. She lifted it and eyed the daring member of her staff who had not bothered to leave his station to contact her.

"Doctor Weir, we've been contacted by the _Daedalus_. They are already in the system and will be docking within fifteen minutes."

Elizabeth clenched her teeth. "Thank you. Weir out." Her next words addressed the wall behind her. "Nena, our meeting will be a little earlier than planned."

So much for tea!

* * *

Meredith and Nena were presently at one of the highest points of Atlantis, both sitting with their legs stretched in front of them and fingers reaching for their toes.

"It's stretching," Nena spoke calmly. "Human muscles malfunction if they are too stiff and sore to do anything."

"Yup," was Meredith's contribution. She did indeed sound quite pensive.

Blue eyes, a slightly brighter shade than Carson's, flicked up and the girl's lips tweaked into a smile. Nena knew her daughter was already more intelligent than any other human her age, and it was wonderful – Carson was not so optimistic. He fussed. It was adorable, watching the fine lines draw themselves over his forehead while he tried to read a book about ducks and dogs and e-i-oing to Meredith who was far more interested in one of Rodney's lab reports.

But Nena knew her daughter still enjoyed listening to Carson burr on tiredly until he declared bedtime for everyone.

"Wools," said Meredith, frowning in a good imitation of her father.

Nena sighed. "Yes, yes. I should have told your father about it but he worries so much!"

"_Woolsey_."

This time, a ping echoed across the non-space between them in the ethernet. Nena's eyes widened and she gasped. Woolsey! Already here? Scooping up Meredith, she whisked through the nearest wall before Elizabeth's voice even coalesced from sound waves into circuitry.

* * *

Humming nervously, and adorned in the red-grey civilian outfit expected of Lantean personnel, Nena settled into the chair and hastily stood back up when her form threatened to slip through the seat. She busily arranged Meredith into her arms and paced all along the glass of the room. Elizabeth steepled her fingers, choosing not to dig into her arsenal of comforting phrases. It was one thing to receive an official looking bit of paper announcing the IOA's latest interference – it was quite a another to receive a personal visit.

The lights dimmed. Elizabeth eyed them, bringing sheer will power to bear in spite of her lacking the ATA gene. At Nena's agitation, the globes lost their luminance completely, though the room glittered in refracted light sent from glaring ocean waves onto various reflective surfaces. Closing her eyes and tilting her head side-to-side with her index fingers, Elizabeth attempted to recall meditative techniques. She found them somewhat lacking.

"Sit down, please," she spoke up, grudgingly dropping her eyelids open. "It's hard enough composing myself without your anxiety, Nena. Are you sure you do not want Carson present for this?"

Wordlessly, Nena glided into the seat and pressed her lips together. She shifted uncomfortably in her jacket, then got to her feet again.

"Da," Meredith answered for her mother. "Bzzz."

"Yes, he's very busy, your da," Nena agreed absently.

Elizabeth thought this was a poor excuse, but she hardly had the time to bring it up, especially when her hated radio vibrated under her fingers. Deaf to whoever was on the other end, she settled the mouthpiece against her chin and authorised the transportation. Blinking against the shaft of light so neat and uniform compared to the method the Becketts used, Elizabeth set her face in neutral stone and nodded once, twice, to make sure her visitor had seen the acknowledgement.

Richard Woolsey's posture was so flat it was entirely possible he had ironed himself into his own suit. Stroking his narrow blue tie as though worried it was adding dimension to his shape, the American representative for the IOA turned the action into extending his hand, covering the distance from the door to the desk in four equal strides. The legs of the chair slid back beneath Elizabeth as she rose to accept the handshake. He jerked her hand up and down twice.

Rubbing her palms together to expunge the chill of his touch, Elizabeth offered diplomatically, "I hope the journey was not too long for you, Mr. Woolsey."

"Oh, no, it was actually somewhat pleasant. Some peace and quiet is conducive to paperwork, as I'm sure you'll know. Excuse me," he directed towards Nena. "Your superior and I have a meeting."

Nena glowered at him. Her emerald eyes narrowed.

"This is Nena Beckett and her daughter, Meredith," Elizabeth told him.

Woolsey's hand, still unsheathed from his cordial greeting, left waist-height but inched back towards his side instead of across to the woman. He seemed at a loss of what to do. He said at last, "So this is the hologram, is it? Not quite what I...well. I'm sure you know who I am."

Elizabeth anchored her elbows into the surface of her desk, but let her forearms relax, directing her hands further from her face. She raised her eyebrows at her guest. "What were you expecting, Mr. Woolsey?"

"No, no this will be...fine," Woolsey soothed, though Elizabeth wasn't sure who he was trying to placate. Himself, most likely. "Have a seat, Mrs. Beckett."

Nena eyed the seat closest to her only briefly before risking it. Neither she nor Meredith fell through to the floor. She sighed. "Oh, thank you. It's totally not necessary for me, but Meredith can suddenly become quite solid and then it becomes a problem."

Woolsey approached them and bent over, peering into Meredith's eyes. The girl's face withdrew into her mother's side. Woolsey straightened again. "She is a hybrid, I'm told?"

"She's not part-robot," Elizabeth said irritably, and knew she should probably regret her words, but Woolsey galled her.

"She can have a body, you know," Nena put forward cautiously. "And she can get rid of it if she wants to."

The deep lines on Woolsey's forehead dissipated somewhat and he nodded in relief. "Much like the Ancients, then?"

"Yes, like with the Stargates – and even those Wraith darts," Nena explained. "The matter is stored then reproduced when needed. Same thing happens to Carson."

"And all three of you can take control of the systems at the drop of a hat?" Woolsey clarified.

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath and tipped her head at Nena, who seemed unaware of the danger in that question. Nena beamed. "Yes. I think it is the greatest gift I could have given Carson and Meredith."

The IOA representative coiled into his own chair, depositing the briefcase next to his right ankle and shaking his head. "You gave a medical doctor and a child the ability to sink the city."

"Only a man like you, Mr. Woolsey, could think of such a thing!" Nena exclaimed, rising to display her ability to make her hologram form taller. "Do you know that in the very first week, one of my systems went critical and Carson risked his life for the city? He didn't even love me then!"

"I am well aware of that incident. It was in Dr. Beckett's report – a report which manages to omit certain details such as..."

"Such as how we copulate?" Nena snapped.

"Well, no... I mean to say... how the technology was used to create a hybrid child."

Elizabeth slapped one hand onto her desk, letting the hollow sound scatter the argument. "Mr. Woolsey, I don't like where this is going. Do you mean to say that the IOA has an interest in creating hybrid children? Where will it end? When we have half-Wraiths loose in the city?"

Richard Woolsey merely stared at her through his glasses. It was impossible to judge if he was offended or attempting to hide something. Luckily, as happens whenever an awkward silence needs to be breached on Atlantis, a technician called: "Colonel Sheppard's team are half an hour overdue for their call in."

Elizabeth very slowly raised her palm to the side of her forehead and smoothed back her hair. She stood. "Excuse me, Mr. Woolsey."

"Understandable," he said. "Would my presence be unwelcome in the control room?"

Elizabeth smiled politely. "No. I extend the same invitation to Nena."

"I see," Woolsey murmured and followed them.

Elizabeth hoped that somehow John or his team had forgotten to pick up the radio and phone home, but that was extremely unlikely. There were any number of reasons for the mishap, and it was doubtful John had decided to provide a much needed interruption to Woolsey's scrutiny. Either way, Elizabeth made a note to carry a mug of champagne to her military leader that night.

Chuck warily held up a hand in greeting, then shoved it into a pocket when he noticed Woolsey's subtle frown.

"Dial the gate," Elizabeth instructed.

Tapping the panels on the DHD with one hand, the Canadian technician straightened the laptop beside him with the other. The screen was dark for a few moments, which gave him ample time to make sure his hair was starchy and perfect, then flicked over to general systems and schematics and all sorts of boring things. Solitaire was minimised in the task bar. Chuck agonised over whether or not to right click and close it.

Luckily, no one was interested in him. Light swivelled around the 'gate and it whirred into action, locking down six chevrons before engaging at the seventh. Backlit by the sun, it was not at its most brilliant display of light, but the pool of blue wobbled in its usual mesmerising way.

"Wow, that's fast," Woolsey noted, impressed.

"Actually, that's the average speed," Nena responded briskly. "I could make it spin faster but it would ruin the effect, don't you think, Mr. Woolsey?"

"Tension is a plot device, Mrs. Beckett. It has no place in a command area."

"Neither does a nosy little man who wants me to never see my husband again!"

"What?" he exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I assure you – "

Elizabeth crossed her arms, exhaled and looked down at the curve of her elbows. It would be too easy to lose herself tracing the unimportant line her joined arms made. She lifted her gaze. "Patch me through. Colonel Sheppard, this is Doctor Weir. Your team failed to make its last call in. Do you require assistance?"

Dead silence. Chuck's chair squeaked. He muttered apologies.

"Colonel Sheppard. Come in, please."

Not even static bounced back at them. Acutely aware of the turn to Woolsey's mouth in her peripheral vision, Elizabeth stepped forward to cut the connection herself. Her hand hovered for a second while her eyes conferred with Chuck's. He nodded. She pressed the button. Radiant sunlight burst through the puddle as the 'gate deactivated.

Elizabeth tapped her headset. "Major Lorne."

"Uh...yes, m'am? Is this about before?"

"No – you're broadcasting in the control room," she informed him quickly. "John – I mean, Colonel Sheppard and his team have not reported in on schedule. I need you to have your team ready in ten minutes."

The frustrated sigh ghosted through the whole room. Elizabeth had a feeling he was engaged in his romantic troubles. She lowered her voice. "Sergeant Bates has not been off-world in two months, is that correct?"

"Yes, m'am," Lorne fired back.

"Alright. Please convey my message to him instead. And Major – "

"Yes, m'am?"

"This needs to end. Now."

"You're telling me."

Nena leaned over and whispered loudly, "Evan, she's in the training room. No, not that way. The left corridor."

Silence resumed, a good deal more awkward than a couple of minutes ago.

"Right. Thanks. Uh, Lorne out," was the response.

Everyone turned to face Woolsey, who patted his sides, apparently bereft without his briefcase. He linked his hands in front of him and cleared his throat. "Doctor Weir, I am not here to assess your performance, though that may happen at some point. What I am interested in, however – "

A human form pixelated into existence then a harried man in a labcoat demanded, "Elizabeth, do you need the infirmary on standby?"

The leader of the Atlantis expedition doffed her headset, rubbed her temples and wondered why in the Pegasus Galaxy she had ever thought the king of Atlantis would use a standard issue form of communication.

* * *

Spacing out his toes so he could see the blue crash mat between the digits, Evan Lorne eyed his opponent with part-trepidation and part-bafflement. His intention in coming to the common sparring room had been to indulge in some grovelling and offers of condiments. Hopefully he would get some sense out of the situation. Instead, he'd been confronted with a blonde, barefoot Lieutenant wearing grey track pants and a black tank top. She had then thrust two staves at him.

Holding the bantos in a mirror image of her ready stance, Evan wished he'd made some time to learn how to use the Athosian weapons properly.

"Where's your conjoined twin?" Laura asked calmly.

He felt his lips unglue as his expression gaped. "My what?" Her right eyebrow quirked inward and Evan amended quickly, "Oh. No. Sergeant Bates is off-world. I'm not."

"So you're here instead."

Laura bent her knees slightly and a bar of light swept through the window to settle over her eyes. She didn't even blink. One bantos drifted until the point was directed at the left side of Evan's chest.

"Some party a couple of weeks ago," he began, and had to immediately duck when one of the fighting sticks thundered towards him.

The second bantos caught his stomach. Grunting, Evan dropped his sticks, snagged her wrist and corkscrewed her arm, forcing her back to him. He pulled on the limb, leaning to trap it between them. He continued, "Now I don't exactly remember everything that – "

A heel ground into his toes, then flicked up into a particularly sensitive region. Lorne fell to one knee before discovering where that foot of hers had got to – thudding against his chin, incidentally. Flattened on the crash mat, he observed the ceiling and decided that the Ancients really knew how to utilise arches to make the top of a room look higher than it was. Her face blocked one of the gentle light fixtures as she leaned over him. Her hand hovered in front of him.

Evan grabbed her arm at the wrist and elbow with his hands, tugging forcefully. She stumbled, but managed to dig her knees into his stomach on her way. He winced. That was definitely going to bruise. If she kept this up, he'd have to report to the infirmary with internal injuries. He shoved her knees apart to the floor beside him.

The straddle she ended up in was far too pleasant, and Evan swallowed.

"Next question," Laura drawled, tracing his jaw with one of the bantos. "Is your little friend still nursing a grudge about the chocolate thing?"

"_Zelenka? _You want to talk about Zelenka?" Lorne demanded.

"Guess not," she decided.

For a moment, neither said anything. Laura crossed her arms and leaned her elbows into his chest. Evan raised his eyebrows and chanced an uncertain smile.

"I don't know why you thought ignoring me would be a good idea," she mused. "Especially as I've kicked your ass twice now."

"This doesn't count," he insisted.

"You're right. Once is bad enough for your rep."

Lorne could feel his smile mutate into a large, silly grin. "But the second time can be more memorable."

"Sir, I'm going back to Earth in a few days." Laura sighed. "Your timing could be better."

"Sorry."

She stood, flicking her bantos sticks over by the window. They clattered and lay still. Laura held out her hand again, which Evan accepted, allowing her to pull him up this time. Still holding his hand, she walked towards the door, leading him along. She remarked, "We'd better make the most of that time, right. I know this great storage closet one floor down."

"Uh...someone else might know about it," he pointed out as they reached the stairs.

Laura turned her wicked smirk up at him from one step down. "Maybe it's one of the stashes you guys didn't find out about."

"Are you sure you don't want a picnic on the mainland?" Evan asked, belatedly realising that this entire confrontation was far from romantic.

"We can do the wooing part later. Right now I need to whip you into shape."

"Sure. But uh...don't you think it's weird that Atlantis could be watching us right now?"

Laura laughed. "Let her watch. If the CMO starts walking funny, we'll know where she gets her ideas from."

Evan had just enough time to fake a laugh of his own before she yanked him into her discreet hideout.

* * *

The control room existed in a vacuum as many abandoned ship in the wake of the stunned, slightly scandalised expression on the king of Atlantis' face. For a few minutes, everyone else had preoccupied themselves with the departure of Sergeant Donald Bates – who, by the way, had not been terribly pleased to be ordered off-world, and his mood had not improved when Lorne's radio had been discovered to be switched off. He did, however, smile when Nena waved down to him.

"Not what I'm used to, admittedly," Woolsey commented.

"Can't say I disagree with ye there," Carson said, shooting a look at his wife, now in her usual angelic white garb.

Woolsey smiled weakly. "So what does that make you...an emergency medical hologram?"

Carson's mouth opened, then he grinned that same lopsided grin. "Please state the nature of your emergency, lad. And no, I am solid, if that's what ye mean. I don't have a permanent hologram form."

The IOA representative offered a tentative hand, which Carson shook firmly. Woolsey drew back extremely quickly.

"I think I will...sit down," Woolsey said distantly, retreating to an empty chair. He waved away Nena's offer for a cup of coffee, even after she assured him it would be real.

Watching her current companions, Elizabeth knew they were unaware of how appreciative they should be of such a distraction. Her mind was divided between worry for Sheppard's team, worry for Bates' team, worry for Lorne's little problem and now...this! At least it was stirring shadows of humour in her mind, though she would never admit it. She kept her forehead creased and her mouth straight.

Carson stepped forward and began, "Elizabeth, I need ta tell you – "

"Carson, please," Elizabeth interrupted. "I do not have time to deal with anything else right now. I have one team missing and one about to look for them in a situation we don't know anything about. This interview is not as high on my priorities."

"Aye," Carson murmured, eyes narrowing in the direction of his wife and daughter. "Mr. Woolsey, I had no idea that my wife organised this with ye, or I would have made time for it. Ye asked me enough questions as it was when I was on Earth, wouldnae ye say?"

Richard Woolsey sat up abruptly, causing the springs in the wheely chair to screech indignantly. He winced slightly. "Is there any reason you choose to be defensive?"

"Damn it, Elizabeth, I wonae sit here – look, I can help ye find the team – well, Ronon at the very least – "

The Stargate thrummed warningly. Elizabeth slapped three fingers over the shield button a second before Chuck did. He awkwardly withdrew his hand, sullenly announcing, "Incoming wormhole."

The event horizon sprayed over the shimmering shield. The effect was hypnotic on Woolsey, whose glasses reflected a mixture of blue and yellow sparkles. Chuck's laptop beeped as symbols wrote themselves across the screen. He leaned forward.

"It's Bates' team!" Chuck exclaimed, swatting Elizabeth away from the switch so he could do the honours in dousing the shield.

"That can't be good," Elizabeth said, echoing the voice her mind that sounded a lot like it belonged to Lt. Colonel John Sheppard.

A blast of energy escaped the gate and smacked into the balcony section of the control platform. Richard Woolsey suddenly found haven underneath the console, but had to jostle Chuck for legroom. Three figures burst into the room from the wormhole, backs to the control room, their guns were still aimed towards the gate. Bates flew in from halfway up the event horizon and barked out very audible swear words when his hands and then the rest of his body hit the floor. He rolled several times before coming to rest at the feet of his team.

Elizabeth activated the shield and half-turned back to her CMO, but he was already gone. Nena drew in line with Elizabeth. Both Nena and Beckett waved down towards the lower level, where Carson was already kneeling beside Bates.

Nena tutted and shook her head. "Carson says that Donald says that it was – "

"Genii?" Meredith queried, eyes scrunched up tight as she also read the data Carson sent at them.

"Exactly!" Nena acknowledged, kissing her daughter on the head. "And it looks like Donald's right arm is broken. He landed very hard, poor thing. But he should not be saying those things about Evan."

Fed up with the second-hand information, Elizabeth jogged out to the scorched balcony and called down, "Are the Genii holding them hostage on the planet?"

"Not sure!" Donald shouted back, clutching his right elbow. "We think they may be on another planet but it's a trading world so God knows how many people have been dialling out."

"Get him to the infirmary!" Elizabeth ordered her Chief Medical Officer.

"Elizabeth, I need – " Carson began again, this time more urgently.

"This is still not a good time, Carson. I will join you shortly."

The doctor stared at her for a moment, then broke eye contact. He accompanied Bates out of the gate room. Elizabeth briefly admired her CMO's ability to put aside his personal frustrations, whatever they were.

She had professional frustrations to handle.

Elizabeth strode back into the control room and stopped short. "Chuck, where is our guest?"

"I don't know..." the technician answered, tongue hanging out of one corner of his mouth while he tried to rearrange the cards in his game of solitaire. "With Nena and Meredith, I think."

"And where are they?"

"I don't know...with Woolsey, I think..."

Pain sparked behind Elizabeth's eyes, before settling into a steady throb. She circled her palm ver her forehead. "Thank you, Chuck."

* * *

After the trip to the mess hall and three different balconies, Richard Woolsey had indulged in some sustenance – that is, coffee and fresh sea air. Little did he suspect that his 'guide' was taking him in more or less a circle conducted over only two levels of the main spire of Atlantis. He may not have minded, anyway, except that the two females in his presence made him nervous.

"Actually, I'm a little relieved everything is so normal," Woolsey confided as they passed a gaggle of whispering members from the biology department.

Nena flawlessly created a puzzled expression for her face. "What do you mean?"

"I have not been off-world before."

"Oh! This is your first time?" She brightened when he nodded. "You should have said something, Richard. Carson would have taken you to get some read off-world soil on your shoes!"

He straightened his tie and performed a little cough with his hand. "If you don't mind, you should be addressing me as..."

"Woolsey," agreed Meredith. "Miss Woolsey."

A smile gritted its way onto Woolsey's mouth. "Well, no...but close enough. Where is the infirmary?"

Nena spun around swiftly and set Meredith beside her, taking the girl's hand in hers. Meredith braced herself unsteadily against Woolsey, who had unwisely chosen to walk so close to the women. She thrust her other hand up at him and he automatically took it, then realised his mistake as they both press-ganged him into following them back the way they had come.

"We passed it a few minutes ago," Nena explained. "I just thought we should get to know each other... and whether or not I should stow you in a stasis field for ten millennia. I have done that before."

Trying to ignore the fact that a child under the age of twelve months was walking alongside him with a low level of assistance from the adults, he asked neutrally, "And what have you decided?"

"You are an odd human, Mr. Woolsey, and I believe you do not wish harm to other humans. But what have you decided about me? And Meredith? Are we human enough for you?"

"That is not the real issue here," he admitted. "To be honest, it is not even your presence that concerns the IOA."

"Wha'?" Meredith interjected in an unmistakeable lilt.

Woolsey absently rubbed his thumb over the back of Meredith's hand as he delivered the news. "We want to know how we can use you."

"You are a crazy, odd man," Nena pronounced.

"Well. I try. Why do you say so?"

The entity of Atlantis beamed charmingly. "Most people who know me don't tell the truth because I can lock them out in the cold wearing just shorts."

"I see," Woolsey muttered and luckily did not have to reveal just how unsettled he was as Nena and Meredith pushed him into the infirmary where Elizabeth was already waiting.

"Why is she walking?" Carson Beckett demanded. "Lord knows it took me long enough to get her to crawl."

Meredith offered a tiny shrug. "Want to."

Her long-suffering father sighed. Bates, sitting beside him with his arm bundled up in a cast and a sling, chuckled. Carson drew back the bottle of painkillers he had been holding out for the Sergeant and warned, "I can forget I haven't given these to ye, lad." The doctor glanced at Woolsey. "I wasn't serious."

Elizabeth inserted herself between Beckett and Woolsey. "Sergeant, you were explaining why you were only gone for fifteen minutes."

"We ran into the chief trader of their village and he said something weird like 'we don't have time to send you to the planet too' then the Genii turned up. We were outgunned and outmanned, so I ordered a retreat. I'm sorry, m'am."

"Good work," Elizabeth encouraged.

His face darkened. "Can I go now? I need to find my 2IC and force him to write my report. It's his fault I can't use my writing arm."

"Evan's in his quarters," Nena supplied. "He'll be in a good mood so he'll probably agree to anything."

Her husband looked at her quizzically, then his blue eyes grew distant. His face blanched. "Nena! Do ye know nothing of privacy?"

"Should I ask?" Woolsey spoke up hesitantly while Bates slunk out of the room.

"NO!" Carson and Meredith exclaimed at the same time, following which Carson looked at his daughter with horror.

Doctor Weir, used to being excluded from such exchanges but unused to having it occur in front of a representative of the IOA, raised her voice above the level of everyone else. "Alright, that's enough. I need to organise a larger group of marines and to do that I need to call back a couple of teams."

"What I've been trying to tell ye..." Carson started.

"Give me a moment," she cut him short. "I need to think out loud or my head will hurt again."

Meredith clapped her small hands three times in staggered succession. "Listen to Da!"

The lights flickered and a strange groaning sound exuded from the walls. Woolsey visibly shrank. He closed his eyes and his mouth worked wordlessly. After a moment, he composed himself, but stayed well away from the scariest occupants of the infirmary. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, then realised the serious expression on her friend's face was more than simple exasperation. He had an idea.

"I mentioned it to ye several months ago, love," Carson explained. "I created a tiny chip that is perfectly safe to be embedded between the thumb and the index finger. It allows me track it – and the person equipped with it – over long distances. The deep space sensors are capable of doing so. This morning, I fitted the first device into Ronon."

"I thought Ronon didn't agree with its use," Elizabeth pointed out slowly.

"Ah, well, it was a work in progress. And besides, it was his idea. There have been rumours of the Genii planning abductions of our people..." Carson trailed off, realising along with everyone else in the room that he probably should have mentioned some of this before.

Woolsey, however, looked keenly interested. "Let me get this straight. You designed, and implemented, a device to track SG members across a galaxy? Can this be proven?"

Nena swooped over to throw her arms around her husband, kissing from his jaw to his shoulder. He gently prised her away. She flicked her fingers through his hair, smiling up at him. "Carsie-buns, you are smarter than most people think you are."

"Oh, aye, does that include ye then?" he demanded.

"No it doesn't, you naughty boy, and you know that."

He grinned and leaned her back into a slow dip, pressing his lips to hers. Nena looped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.

"You were saying something about a chip...?" Elizabeth reminded them, not because she disapproved of such a cute display, but because Meredith was now holding onto her leg and was displaying a slightly evil twinkle her baby blues.

"Yes, I would like to see it work," Woolsey added.

Mr. and Mrs. Beckett separated. Carson straightened his labcoat. He ducked into his office and, when he returned, he was holding his laptop. He set it on the end table of the bed and waved a hand over the screen. The wireless allowed him to beam the data directly into it and the spectators crowded around it to watch the blue dot radiate at them from the screen.

"How far away is this?" Elizabeth asked.

Carson tapped a few keys and he smiled. "I believe we have this address in our computers. It's not tha' far at all."

A collective sigh of relief echoed through the room.

Woolsey, naturally, had the highest priority on his mind. "How many of these can you make?"

* * *

"...they knocked us out and took us away to keep the Genii from finding us. Trouble is, they wouldn't let us go back because they were sure the Genii were still there. So you guys turning up from our end persuaded them that we had another way home," John Sheppard finished.

The four team members were once again lined around the table, in varying degrees of comfort. Elizabeth and Carson sat beside each other at one end, both nursing empty mugs of green and black tea respectively.

"They do not take kindly to the Genii interfering in potential transactions," Teyla added.

"They drugged us!" Rodney exclaimed. "Who knows what else they gave us?"

John leaned to one side to regard his team mate with a carefully blank expression. "Well, we can bet it wasn't anything with citrus in it, otherwise we'd have a bit more quiet. Actually, Ronon, I'd never have pegged you as Carson's labrat."

"We know he can take out tracking devices," Ronon said. "Not like he's going to put in one he can't get out. He knows I'd shoot him if that happened."

"Aye, that's exactly it," Carson snorted. "Elizabeth, I'm going to make myself scarce. I imagine ye have a few more things to do here."

Outside, Dr. Beckett found himself in the path of Atlantis' distinguished guest. Carson appraised the other man's appearance. "Mr. Woolsey, I see ye've gone native."

Grimacing, Woolsey held out his arms to better showcase the standard Atlantis civilian uniform he was wearing. "Not by choice, I assure you. Your wife absconded with my suit. Thankfully, I'll be on my way tomorrow."

"Looking forward to the peace and quiet of the trip back on the _Daedalus_?" Carson asked.

Woolsey shook his head. "No, I think I'll be using the Stargate. I'd rather risk losing my limbs than my reputation on the _Daedalus_."

"I don't suppose ye'd like soil your shoes on the mainland?"

"Really?" The IOA's representative's eyes widened significantly behind his glasses as he imagined wild, impossible things. "You can do that?"

Carson laughed. "If Doctor Weir will let me take a Puddlejumper. I'm a doctor, not a transporter room. I need ta be back by night time, though. My lass has made a promise I intend to collect."

"Alright then. Should I bring anything?"

"How are ye for fishing?"

"I don't suppose you have a spare line."

"Of course I do. I've been trying to get a friend of mine out to the mainland for sech a thing."

"Oh. Well..." Woolsey offered a genuine smile. "Make it so."

* * *

AN: So there you have it! The last full chapter of this fic. Epilogue to follow. And yes, this chapter was an experiment. But honestly? Every chapter is an experiment. Or something like it.

Also, I haven't seen _Voyager _yet but I've got up to s6 of TNG. :D


	10. Epilogue

AN: The timing of this epilogue is contentious. It's supposed to be set before "Michael" but after the 2005 Christmas episode of _Doctor Who_. As you might be aware, "Michael" aired in January 2006. However, Carson's calendar in that episode clearly says July 2005!

How to solve this? Fanficcer's liberty. I already messed around the timeline in the last two chapters anyway, because I used airing dates. And eh...I'm not counting that July calendar page as 100% canon in this fanfic because it said Carson had a date with Cadman – somehow I don't think Nena would allow that.

Very very brief reference to Craig Veroni's appearance in _SG1_'s "Grace". And, er, multiple references to _Doctor Who_.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Peter Grodin, decked out in a multi-coloured scarf that followed him around like a tattered, adoring puppy, hurried into the mess hall. He stopped and scanned the multitude of chattering marines, lurking scientists and other shady characters for his target. Finally spotting royalty, he coasted over, ready to deliver his announcement.

The King of Atlantis looked up in surprise, a cup of Cadman-grade coffee steaming halfway to his lips. "Peter? If I missed this week's role playing night, I'm sorry, lad, but Meredith has been keeping me busy with her attempts to rewire my coffee machine into making only hot chocolate. Quite an unsatisfactory change, believe me."

"What? Oh. No." The English technician chuckled. "I was just coming to invite you to my farewell party."

"What's this now?" Carson Beckett exclaimed, setting down his stainless steel mug.

Peter tossed an arm of his scarf over a shoulder and began cheerfully, "Well, I've been thinking about this since you saved my life, actually. Near death experiences tend to have a bearing on one's thinking."

"Aye, yer not wrong there. But surely ye like it here?"

"Of course I do," Grodin insisted. "However, we're really in the middle of nowhere. I have...maybe...a chance with a girl at the SGC. And I think it's worth trying, at the very least. This is also just one in a long line of bucket list items, to tell you the truth. I've done 'Earth's first major spaceship'. I've done 'another galaxy'. Maybe I can try getting into the IOA."

Smiling slightly, Carson pushed back the spare seat at his table. The technician plopped into it immediately and reached over to snatch one of the sugar cubes left on Carson's butter plate, which had been doubling as a saucer. Peter sucked on the sugar, his dark eyes lighting up enthusiastically.

"I like ye a damn sight more than that Woolsey fellow," the CMO told him, pushing over the plate.

"I thought he was sending you the occasional friendly memo from home."

Carson nodded. "Oh, aye, he is. But he's still trying to remind me that the IOA want an answer on their latest project. I hear that DNA splicing equipment is on its way to me on the next shipment. Not that I need it in the slightest."

"So, this party of mine..." Peter began, munching loudly on another sugar cube.

"Alright then, lad. Where is it?"

"Your wife actually suggested a rooftop view, but it's a little windy today. We settled for one of the blacked out areas of the city, no offence."

"This wouldnae happen to be the observatory would it?" Carson asked suspiciously. "And I take it Colonel Sheppard suggested it."

The technician blinked. "How did you know?"

"I had an inkling. I need to make a wee stop before I join ye."

Peter looked very nervous all of a sudden. He waited only a moment, trying to judge the polite grin that the doctor was giving him. Other pressing matters demanded his attention, naturally, and he told Carson to dress up before leaping out of the chair. Dr. Beckett watched his roleplaying friend blur around the corner and laughed. He closed his eyes briefly and concentrated.

When his blue eyes showed again, they were twinkling.

* * *

Despite the slightly damp, disused smell that filled the domed room and the lack of lighting, the partygoers were generally enjoying themselves. Radek Zelenka, manning the iPod plugged into a large set of speakers and wearing a rather fetching light blue button-up shirt, had been seen cheerfully exchanging dialogue with anyone who drifted over to ply him with spirits in exchange for song requests. Currently, he was gesturing animatedly as he talked with Major Lorne, the latter of which was still in uniform though his dogtags bore a plain silver ring. No one was entirely sure what the story was there, though this didn't stop anyone from attempting to get the information out of Bates who himself sported a black eye.

Chuck Campbell exited the party hastily when his attempt at explaining the celery stick on his collar fell flat with a female member of the physics department. He stopped abruptly in the corridor when he saw Carson and Rodney. His jaw dropped.

"Uh, this is going to make you insanely unpopular," Chuck warned the pair of them. "Grodin is a huge Fourth and Ninth fan and has forbidden anyone from saying the new guy's name, much less dressing up as him."

Rodney glared at Carson. "Oh, come on. You said this was going to get me a free drink."

His friend grinned. "Sorry, lad. I thought ye might want to take a little revenge for not being invited. Ye know they deliberately held it down here so ye wouldnae see it on the sensors?"

"That's not...really...okay, fine," Rodney conceded. "But you are not asking me to babysit for a month!"

Both men adjusted their brown pin-striped suits and trench coats before squeaking into the party in their converse shoes. The music died abruptly. Grodin froze, his hand still thrown up in a disco pose and his beloved scarf halfway off his shoulders.

"Oh. My. God!" cried Dr. Biro.

Everyone looked at her. Admittedly, no one had realised she was there, because she had been disguised with a messy blonde wig, and was cloaked in a pink hoodie. If that wasn't enough, she was wearing a sticker name tag that bore the doodle of a rose.

Dr. Beckett swallowed. "Good Lord. She's a shipper. Run."

Rodney had already made himself comfortable at the buffet table, making off with ten more instant coffee sachets than he needed. Lacking sufficient back-up, and aware of the ghastly silence filling the room, Carson ducked back out into the corridor. When he re-entered, he was wearing his favourite stripy blue shirt and jeans.

Dr. Biro sighed in disappointment. The music resumed. Peter shook himself and laughed. The awkward moment was gone.

"Why did you think it smart to come here dressed up as the Tenth Doctor?" Radek asked Carson when he floated over.

"It's no' going to be the same without Peter," Carson said, mildly changing the subject.

"_Ano_, who else can I show my new K-9 prototype to without hearing any sarcastic comments?"

Both men watched Rodney snatch someone's doughnut. The chocolate icing left smudges on the scientist's fingers, the only sign of his unscrupulous deed. He wiped the icing on his pin-striped pants. Carson made a small, pained sound.

"I thought you were a Ninth fan, Carson!" Zelenka pointed out, grinning.

"So did I," Carson admitted. "But it's a matter of national pride, ye know."

"Say nothing more. I understand completely."

Later, seated beside a speaker and finding some comfort in the bass throbbing up his calf muscles (they reminded Carson of a subroutine in the surveillance systems, actually), the King of Atlantis watched the partygoers. Not a single one of them seemed concerned with his presence. A few smiled and waved when their eyes met his, which was an improvement on the sneaky looks he'd been getting for several months.

_We humans are a scrappy bunch_, he mused._ We can become accustomed to anything_.

He started when Ronon sat beside him. The Satedan held out a paper plate decorated with doughnuts. Carson took one. "How are ye, lad?"

Ronon considered this. "Hungry."

"Aye, me too," Carson said, surprised. Sometimes he forgot to eat, and other times it seemed he didn't need to. The hollow feeling in his stomach was not unwelcome.

They chewed in silence for a while. Ronon tossed the plate across the dance floor, unconcerned when it hit Rodney's shins, or when the scientist hopped about as though he had been struck with a drone instead of a cardboard frisbee.

"Does McKay know you chipped him?" Ronon asked.

Carson shook his head, trying to keep the chuckle at the back of this throat. "I was working up to it. I donnae exactly want to spring it on the lad. Last time I brought the subject up, he was convinced I was trying to turn him into a cyborg. When I said it had worked for you, he said something along the lines of 'who would notice if the caveman lost the capacity to think for himself'."

"Yeah, that sounds like McKay," Ronon agreed, swiping a passerby's plate and lobbing it after Rodney who expertly dodged this time. "I can tell him if you like. It was my idea."

"You'd do that?"

Leaning his chair back against the wall, the Satedan noted, "We need to smash him first."

"Ronon, lad, I'm not going to correct ye on how that phrase should go," Carson said wryly.

"Good. Because I mean it my way."

The floor screeched in protest as John Sheppard pushed over a chair with one hand, using the other to signal Zelenka. He mouthed a song request then threw a chocolate bar at the scientist. Radek siphoned the currency away in an instant and Johnny Cash started singing about a ring of fire.

"Am I missing anything good?" John wanted to know as he sat the wrong way in his chair, leaning his elbows on the back of it.

Carson shrugged. "Plotting...scheming..."

"Eating all the good doughnuts before McKay can," Ronon finished, digging a nail into the gap between two of his front teeth.

"The usual stuff then," John decided then called out, "Teyla!"

The previously unaccounted for member of the team appeared beside them, hands behind her back, her expression devoid of any curiosity. "Yes, John?"

He indicated the space beside him. "Pull up a chair. We're watching Rodney steal the coffee sachets."

"You mean these?" Teyla asked, holding out two handfuls worth of sachets.

Three pairs of eyebrow rose. Carson briefly pitied his friend, but every once in a while Rodney deserved a joke at his expense. It was John who voiced what the three men were thinking. "Wow. Teyla, I'm impressed."

"We may need them on a future mission," she explained, somehow conjuring up a chair.

"You mean as a bribe?" John clarified.

Teyla smiled. "'Incentive' is the term, is it not?"

"Bribe," Ronon and Carson chorused.

A few minutes were spent laughing companionably until Dr Beckett's radio rasped. He held it up close to the side of his face, turning slightly away from the speaker beside him. "Elizabeth, yer missing the party of the year down here."

"I see...that explains why I can't find anyone," her exasperated voice peeped in his ear.

"Sorry about that, Elizabeth. Yer more than welcome to join us."

"Keep me posted on how the party goes."

Casting an eye around the cheerful assortment of human beings from all departments, Carson couldn't help but feel responsible somehow. And that responsibility included everyone, no matter how far up the food chain.

"Ye should pop by for a wee visit, love," he needled. "Perhaps bring some sustenance with ye, because the current supply won't survive long with Meredith here."

"Big or small Meredith?"

"What do ye think?"

A laugh echoed through the airwaves. "On my way. Weir out."

Satisfied, and suddenly craving a different sort of companionship, Carson excused himself and made his way into a discreet corridor nearby, where the lights were dim but perfectly functioning. It didn't take long for Nena to swoop into being beside him.

"What's on your mind, Carson?" she asked, once a kiss had been deposited on his cheek.

"Oh just the usual," he replied, slipping his hand into hers and guiding her into a slow walk. "Inventory time in the infirmary again. Our wee lass keeps reorganising my medical files into her own order. I prefer alphabetical, personally."

Nena smiled at him. "She'll find something else to do. I'm sure."

"To be honest, I was thinking about humanity," Carson said.

"Oh no, not this again," she murmured, her worry streaking out in data streams all over the city.

"Easy, Nena," her husband soothed, stopping to caress her cheek. "No, I was thinking of that saying – to err is human. Why not 'to err is _to_ _be _human'? I've made enough mistakes to qualify several times over. And ye, my dear, have yer own claim. Ye are as human to me as our daughter and our friends. I'd wager that nearly everyone here thinks of ye as more than what ye began as. How many have thought ye looked like a chair?"

"None!" she exclaimed.

"And how many thought Meredith was goin' through her terrible twos just a wee bit early?"

"Nearly everyone."

He gave her one of those lopsided smiles and Nena truly felt weakness in her knees, a sensation that went beyond data constructing a required response. Carson vowed, "My bonnie lass, one day I intend to give ye a body to take ye back to my Mum. Ye and Meredith should see Earth."

Nena frowned. "But Meredith can go with you anytime."

"I know that, love. But it's something I wish to share with both of ye."

"About the chair..." She trailed off, raising one eyebrow impishly.

Knowing exactly where this was going, but enjoying it nonetheless, Carson leaned in to whisper, "Aye?"

"You do enjoy the sensations in it more, don't you?"

"Nena, I'm a gentleman. I'm not one to kiss and tell."

While the adults of Atlantis danced and played, the youngest inhabitant of the city found a cosy nook to curl up in both physically and virtually. Grown-ups could be weird, and it had taken her da several months to arrive at a conclusion she'd known all along.

Meredith Mary Beckett, the product of two loving parents, was surrounded by countless "uncles" and "aunts" who had made the time to treat her like anyone else. She had a very large, very caring family.

Meredith didn't need to err to know her place in the universe.

But she supposed those silly adults were allowed a bit of time to figure it out for themselves.

* * *

AN: Finished! Where to next? Tbh, I only have one Checkett fic left in me and it's the big one. I say "big one" because it will cover the Big Three – Michael, the mid-season 3 cliffhanger and that inevitable Sunday.

But it's not going to happen unless I know people actually want to read this universe one last time. Please let me know if you're interested, utilising that ancient form of communication called 'reviewing'.

Until we meet again,

Caz.


End file.
